


A Junkyard Dog

by InsomniacFlaaffy



Series: A Junker's Notebook [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsomniacFlaaffy/pseuds/InsomniacFlaaffy
Summary: Wandering around the Outback, Junkrat meets a feral child living among a pack of irradiated dogs. He doesn't speak, only barks and growls, just like a dog. The kid opens up to Junkrat after a while and finds out that the kid's story is sadder than he expected.





	1. War Never Changes

War never changes, no matter where a person goes. Internal or external, the fights are always the same. And so was the aftermath. War wreaked 90 percent of Australia, reducing the land into a radiated rock in the middle of the ocean. Death counts were high, flora and fauna mutated, and the radiation was a constant thing to deal with; even decades after the war. Survival of the fittest was the country’s new motto. Survivors either perished from the radiation storms that came in or turned wild humans living day by day, stealing or killing.

That’s what Junkrat was doing.

Well, to some extent. Mostly, he was running. Lots and lots of running. He was a wanted man after all. Everyone and everything wanted a piece of him. The attention from various Junker gangs and many hit men was great. Junkrat loved that shit. But he was wasting too many explosives trying to get these morons off his trail. Though there were many, many lovely explosions those grenades and mine created. The parts he needed to make more repeated like a broken record in his head. Wiring, scrap metal, chemicals; all things easily obtained in scrapyards everywhere.

It had to be some time around early afternoon. The rays from the big explosion in the cloudless skies toasted his shoulders, upper back, and the uncovered sections of his scalp. A small amount of the supplies he had rattled in the worn blanket turned to sack as he hobbled onward. The joint in his peg leg squeaked every so often in protest with his continuous walking along the dirt road. Nothing a little oil couldn’t fix, some he could just siphon from an abandoned car somewhere. He slowed his walk for a moment but never stopped moving completely. He couldn’t afford to lose daylight.

His amber eyes darted and scanned over his surroundings. Orange sands and dry bush went on for miles in every direction, with the occasional rusted piece of metal stick out of the ground. A whole lot of nothing as usual.

Something on the horizon caught the Junker’s ever fleeting attention: a dark mass miles and miles away from his location. Junkrat’s eyes narrowed at the mass, skeptical. Was the heat and radiation playing tricks on him again? Or was it the pang of hunger gnawing at his stomach? Whatever the reason, he had to keep going. It had to be better than roasting alive in the sun. He would estimate he could make it there by nightfall at the rate he was traveling.

The sky looked like a wildfire as the sun began to dip below the horizon, a beautiful mixture of oranges and reds. Junkrat always found himself craning his neck upward to stare in a stupor. The sight was a norm in the Outback but each time he saw it, he had to stop everything and look. It took all his mental energy to tear his eyes off the sky and focus of the giant landmark in front of him. It wasn’t just a scrapyard, but dump. A dump meant a greater chance of salvaging parts. A 10-foot chain link fence encircled the entire perimeter and a rusty padlock kept its gate firmly shut. There were holes under the fence, none big enough for him to fit in.

He could just climb the fence and get in. No, that wouldn’t work. Last time he did that, his peg leg got stuck in a hole and he was left hanging literally. Had to take it off and spent about 10 minutes trying to unwedge the damn thing. It was an embarrassing experience that he rather not relive again. Taking a notably large rock in his hand, Junkrat raised it over his head and smashed it with all the strength against the lock. Both the lock and the rock crumbled to pieces. Locks were never a challenge to him. Would have been better if he used a bomb. He had to save the three grenades and single mine he had left.

The gate let out a loud creak when Junkrat pulled it open, slipped through the small opening, and pushed it closed. Mountains upon mountains of metal and garbage towered over his head. It threatened to block out the evening sky and made him feel somewhat small. The scent of rotten garbage hit his nose caused him to frown in disgust for a brief second. He was use to those kinds of smells but it still hit him like a brick at first.

The man’s muscles ached from pure exhaustion, almost on fire, it felt like. He had been walking since the break of dawn or was it earlier than that? Who knows, it sure wasn’t him that remember. As much as he wanted to rest, he couldn’t, not yet. The sounds of creatures skittering in the trash, the creaking of the metal above him, the night quickly approaching; Junkrat focused on everything and yet nothing at the same time. Shelter, he needed shelter of any kind. His head told his legs to press on deeper into the dump. Junkrat felt animal eyes watch his every move from afar, something much larger than dump rats. It had to be either dogs or dingoes, he hoped it was the latter of the two. With dogs, he could just rig his last mine or a bear trap to scare them off or even get food. Not like he hadn’t skinned and eaten dog before. You learned to take what you get in the wastes. Dingoes were smarter than dogs, they watched and adapted quickly. If they saw him setting a trap, they would avoid it. Cunning bastards, they were.

At the back of the compound, up against the dump’s fence, was a dilapidated shed made out of dented and rusted metal. It beckoned Junkrat, striking a similar resemblance to his old shed, if not a little smaller. Junkers probably tore the thing down looking for his treasure. The thought caused him to snicker at himself uncontrollably for a while. What a bunch of idiots. They’ll never find it, especially if they killed him. If he could just see the pure rage in their eyes once again…

He gave the shed a good kick to the side with his good foot. It shook but held together nicely. It wasn’t fancy but it was in better hands with him than anyone else. He tossed his sack on the ground and started digging his fingers in the warm dirt at his knees. The shuffling in the trash around his drew closer as filled the several inches deep hole with old newspaper and other flammable material in arms reach. ‘ _Just get a fire going, Rat,_ ’ he thought as he shoved his hand in his shorts pocket and retrieved at lighter. ‘ _They’ll keep their distance from the flames._ ’ The kindling caught fire quick but he knew it wouldn’t produce a large enough fire. He needed more. That meant searching through the trash for wood, or anything that burned slow, in that matter.

“If any of you mutts come closer, I’ll blow you up!” warned Junkrat. He turned his back to his things and headed for the nearest pile of trash. An old wooden dresser became the victim of Junkrat’s brutal disassembling. He ripped the probably once pretty furniture apart mercilessly, and also threw it against the ground several times for good measure. The fire grew in size when he added wood pieces one by one, slowly bathing the area in a warm, orange light. When he came back to his supplies, a figure was hunched over it and rifling through it. It had its back to him so Junkrat couldn’t tell who or what it was. He couldn’t that any chances.

He pulled a board out of the fire and wielded it like a torch. “Oi, hands off my stuff!” Junkrat shouted and he swung the board just above the figure. The sound of low growls behind him filled his ears along with his own blood pumping in them.

The figure stopped its searching and turned to face the man’s crude torch. Junkrat’s face immediately contorted with confusion. Staring up at him was a kid no older than 7 years old. Dirt and grime coated his tanned skin and his clothes hung like rags on his body. His eyes, dull and blue, looked back at Junkrat with equal confusion. The skin on the boy’s cheeks was pulled tight on his skull, as if he never had a good meal in his life. The short, brown hair on his head was matted against his scalp. He stood up from his sitting position and got to his hands and feet, eyes still locked on Junkrat.

Most kids left or abandoned usually ended up dead or forced to join a gang for survival. It was a rare sight to see a kid living on their own. The sole of his boot crunched in the dirt when he stepped towards the kid. The kid’s body stiffened and his lips parted, baring yellowed sharp teeth while growling like an animal.

Junkrat heard about feral children before; kids so detached from society that they mentally turn into animals. That could be said about most people in the wastes, including Junkrat. At least he kept his charming wit and looks. His eyes snapped back to the burning wood in his hand and he threw it back into the fire. There was plenty of light now to see everything around him completely and his stomach dropped.

Dogs, over a dozen of mangy dogs now surrounded him and the kid. Their yellow eyes were sunken in their skulls, glaring at the man. Not a single strand of fur was on these dogs’ bodies. Only dry, flaky skin like leather on their bones what was left of the beasts, not a single bit of fat on them. Drool dripped in vigorous amounts from the dogs’ agape maws. From the hungry glimmer in their gaze, they were considering making Junkrat their next meal.

His heart thumped hard in his chest. ‘ _No more sudden movements,_ ’ he thought. ‘ _One more step and yer dog food._ ’ He could worm his way out of this, he always did in the face of danger. Junkrat relaxed his shoulders and cackled, a high-pitched laugh that echoed in the late evening. The laugh was loud enough to cause the boy to flinch and lower his body to the dirt.

“Look, kid,” said Junkrat. “You and yer mutt friends don’t wanna eat me. I’m just skin and bones. And I taste horrible! Bleh!” He twisted his face and stuck out his tongue to really seal the deal.

The boy cocked his head to the left and replied with a short and sharp ‘ _bork_ ’. The dogs around them even stopped their choir of growls.

Then the craziest idea came to Junkrat. Crazy enough to work or it just might get him shredded to bits. He was certainly crazy enough to try it out. Junkrat inhaled then screeched, “Ooga-booga-booga!” as he flailed his arms wildly over his head.

The kid yelped and had to have leapt up about 1 or 2 feet into the air in fright. When he landed, he bolted pass the fire and right out of Junkrat’s line of sight. The dogs ran after him, barking like mad, and disappeared into the shadows of the dump once more.

Junkrat erupted in more manic laughter, clutching his abdomen and gasping for air. He couldn’t believe it actually worked like a charm! When his episode came to an end, he fell on his backside and went through his things a few times. No, that kid hadn’t stolen anything. Good, everything was still here. Was he just curious? Well if he did come back, Junkrat knew how to scare him off. It seemed like the dogs followed wherever the kid went so almost all danger was lost. He didn’t have to worry about getting eaten or caught in the sight of unwanted eyes. He would stay in the dump as long as his supplies lasted.


	2. A Bitter Victory

Tiny rays of light filtered down from the small eroded holed from the roof. Junkrat never was a heavy sleeper. Whether it be on the softest beat up mattress, on the cold ground, or on top of a rock; he never had a good night sleep. Of course he got rest, it just didn’t feel he got anything from it.

Junkrat slept sitting upright this time against the back wall of the shack, balancing on the edge of slumber and being awake. The sheet metal crinkled under his back as he shifted his weight from side to side. His bony shoulders blades dug uncomfortably into the wall. Almost impossible to drift back to sleep completely like that. It was about time to wake up and get productive. Get up, salvage parts from anything he got his hands on, build more explosives, figure out where to go next, eat then sleep; that was Junkrat’s cycle. Not that he was complaining. His repetitive cycle could use more mayhem, everything could use more mayhem in his eyes.

Throwing the blanket of his body, Junkrat stretched out his limbs and back. His whole body responded with a series for pops and cracks, satisfying sounds that chased away the mental fog. First, he attached his leg firmly to his body. But when he reached over for his arm, it wasn’t there. Junkrat jumped to his feet, eyes darted like crazy over every surface several times. He was sure he left it right next to him before he went to sleep. Never did he misplace a limb since he had them. Only scrap, tools, and food decorated the ground by his side.

Junkrat’s neck snapped towards the sounds outside his shack. His mind zeroed in on the scratching at the dirt and the muffled growls. Rustic orange, yellow fangs, eight legs. A pair of dogs fought over his arm, tugging back and forth on it like some broken chew toy. That kid he’d seen yesterday wasn’t with them this time, less for him to deal with. If those mutts ended up wrecking his arm, he was going to burn the whole place down to the ground.

He lunged at the dogs but fell short. His chest collided with the ground, kicking up dirt in the process. One dog yelped in shock, releasing his arm, and it fled in result of the noise. The other dog, holding his metal arm by the hand in between its jaws, didn’t move an inch. It stared down at the fallen man with a glint in its eye and its chest puffed in his direction.

Junkrat gritted his teeth together, his fingernails dug into the dirt, and he got up on his good knee. The damn thing was taunting him with his own limb. The look it was giving him, it was a challenge. He was very familiar to it. He was never the type to back down from a challenge. He would get his arm back, even if it killed him. It ran off the same way the other dog went, looked back at Junkrat then disappeared out of sight.

He wasn’t going to let some dogs literally get the upper hand over him. They were going down in the biggest explosion he could make with the things he had on hand. Things were difficult missing one arm. He had to hold down everything with his foot while he used a screwdriver to rig his last mine. His detonator was nonfunctional, probably worn from continuous usage. Like everything else, it would be replaced, built better. Junkrat went out late in the night to plant his trap. Right in the middle of a pathway, buried under a mound of dirt. They would step right on it and blow their legs off. That would show those mangy mutts for stealing his arm. He laughed himself to sleep at the thought.

An explosion jostled Junkrat from his slumber, one that wasn’t from his dreams. It was too real to be from a dream. He could tell the difference; the way it reverberated in his ears and how it shook him to the core. A plump of dust climbed high into the sky, Junkrat could barely contain himself when he scrambled out of the shack.

Dirt, blood, sweat; the smells overwhelmed his senses. Made him even more gitty to see the destruction he caused as he retracted his steps from the previous day before. The smell of blood grew stronger as he drew closed in on the mine’s location. Junkrat also heard the distressed barks of the dogs. The thick irony scent practically hung in the air like a heavy cloud over the area, heavier that the dust floating about. There was something else in the air too. Something more eerie.

When the dust settled, he saw the red stuff speckled the ground around the medium-sized crater. It wasn’t the biggest crater he could muster but it was the best from what he had. Dog parts and trash blown off from the piles nearby littered the place. A complete mess, he had to say, but a glorious mess it was. A victory for the brilliant Jamison.

He walked towards the blast radius but stopped when he stepped on something, something squishy. He raised his foot and his stomach twisted in knot at what he was looking down at.

A toe; not a dog toe but a human one. Smaller than his thumb, covered in dirt, and still bleeding. He held his breath until he was light headed. It had to be from some unmarked grave, he told himself repeatedly. Hurting some kid wasn’t ‘Rat’s nature, or so he thought. More toes and jagged pieces of burnt flesh began to turn up frequently. Bloody drag marks and paw prints in the dirt led deeper into the dump. That kid, he had to make sure that kid was still alive. He was a murderer out of sheer survival and revenge, sure. But never a child murderer. Morals were lacking but even Junkrat had standards, rules he made for himself. Many times, in the heat of his excited rampage, they slipped his mind.

The drag marks went on south of the crater for yards on end, following the man-made path looping throughout the whole place. It didn’t branch off to any of the other paths, only kept to the straightaway. The blood trail continued into cave built completely out of the material found in that particular location. How it supported itself, Junkrat didn’t know. Looked like it would collapse at a single gust of wind.

He entered the cave, ducking his head down a bit. The cave’s ceiling was a few inches shorter than his hunched over posture. The interior was pitch black, darker than he expected it to be. A flick of a lighter solved his little light problem. The flame was weak but it did its job lighting up the area around him. The trail went on deeper and deeper; how far did the tunnel go on for? The claustrophobic tunnel, thick and heavy with hot air, opened up to a large den like area at its end. Light flooded in from gaps in the scrap metal roof above his head. Enough light for Junkrat to see without assistance. Old bones of different sizes, feathers, and fur covered the floor like decorations. The smell of blood and rotting meat was almost suffocating in the heat.

“Kid…?” Junkrat called out. His voice bounced off the walls all around him. He had no clue if the kid even had a name. He never asked for one. There were more important things than get buddy-buddy with a feral kid. Like making sure that same kid didn’t bleed out and croak.

“Kid, come on,” said Junkrat, laughing of the growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “ ‘m sorry for scarin’ ya. I don’t bite, I swear!”

He was answered by the howling wind knocking against loose, flimsy metal. But there was something else. Another sound in between the clanging of metal on metal. As the wind came to a halt, Junkrat heard the sound clearly. It was a whimper. A whimper directly in front of him in the darkness where the sunlight did not touch. Noises that weren’t exactly human or animal, but a mixture of the two. Junkrat raised his lighter out in front of him at the darkness.

Blue eyes stared wildly up at the orange flame eating away at the inky blackness. The kid was shaking, laying on his left side, clinging to Junkrat’s metal arm close to his chest. One of his orange digits was clamped tight between his little teeth. A foot no longer existed on the kid’s left leg. Only a stumpy, slightly burnt calf remained, leaking generous amounts of blood on the ground and coated in dirt. The wound was nowhere near a clean one. Explosion injuries were always messy. The splinter end of his tibia and fibula stuck some inches out of the wound. Jagged flesh and torn muscle strands hung off the limb like ribbons. Junkrat was usually numb to the sight. So use to blowing people up and looting corpses, never gave it a second thought. Seeing the same on a child, someone who never hold up against him, it made him sick to his stomach. Made him sick at himself.

Junkrat knelt down closer to the kid, bringing the flame nearer. The kid shifted his gaze at him, not directly at him but through him. Probably from shock. A memory came to mind, fuzzy and distant. A memory that caused the rest of his right arm to burn. He understood the feeling of shock.

He let the flame die out and shoved the lighter back into his pocket. His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness around him. “ ‘M just gonna take this from ya…” Junkrat said and reached for his arm. There was no resistance from the kid. He released it, too weak and out of it to fight back. He laid there and continued to stare. Tiny indentations of teeth covered the metal surface but everything looked fine on the outside. Attaching the prosthetic back in its rightful place, Junkrat gave the fingers a good few squeezes. No hitches or hang ups, all in working order. Even being chewed on, his arm kept it together.

“Come ‘ere kid,” Junkrat mumbled. He tucked his arms underneath the kid’s neck and thighs, lifting him off the ground. The kid barely had any weight to him. It was like picking up a stuffed animal. He made small squeaks and unintelligible chatter when Junkrat picking him up off the warm ground.

Fresh air flooded his lungs with each inhale Junkrat took as he exited the cave. The remaining dogs were waiting for him, staring at him just like the kid was. Junkrat froze for a moment. If they were going to attack him, why don’t they just do it already? He passed by them, tired of waiting for the mutts’ next move, mumbling colorful words under his breath. They didn’t attack, growl, or bark at him. They stood up and followed close behind him in a single file line. It was strange, having those snarling beast now suddenly docile towards him. It made Junkrat’s paranoia increase, they were planning something. He knew it.

Back at his shack, Junkrat set the kid sitting up against the outside wall. Didn’t want his living space to get too messy. The dogs stood idly close by, watching him. “Stay…” he ordered the lethargic child and dipped into the shack. He grabbed his canteen and the blanket from off the floor.

He returned to the kid and sat down in front of him. “We’re gonna fix ya right up. You’ll be good as new in no time.” Junkrat reassured the kid, yet there was doubt swirling in his mind. He bit down on the canteen’s cork and it came off with a pop. Water swished around in its container. He didn’t want to waste water, especially purified water. But he had no choice. The kid’s leg would get infected if it wasn’t cleaned.

Holding the kid’s leg in one hand and steadily holding the canteen over the wound in the other, Junkrat chewed on his bottom lip. He had done this before on himself, he knew what to do but… He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted the canteen on its side. This was going to be very, very painful.

When the water touched the broken bones and meaty flesh, the kid screeched out in pain. Though it wasn’t as loud as an explosion, it still shook Junkrat. He felt ill. His nails dug into the kid’s calf to keep him still while he thrashed about. Dirt and blood flushed away by the stream of water pooled on the ground between them. Junkrat tore off a strip of cloth off his blanket with his teeth. He hesitated. His fingers shuddered, a cold sweat ran down his jawline, and he swallowed hard. He laughed. Not his usual laughter but a nervous and shaky chuckling as he stuffed the child’s meat into the makeshift bandage. The screaming, the whimpering; he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.

Junkrat took another breath and tied off the cloth tight. It wasn’t pretty at all but it did what it had to do. The kid tried to flee after the older man was finished with him. Limping, hopping on his hands and remaining foot, crawling before falling over a few feet away from his starting point. He attempted to drag himself across the dirt until Junkrat picked him back up. It was sad, pitiful even. He couldn’t let the kid run away with that kind of injury. The kid, face wet with tears, barked and clawed at Junkrat’s arms in protest but he didn’t let go. This feral child was his responsibility now, whether he liked it or not.

The victory wasn’t worth it anymore.


	3. His Responsibility

Neither of them slept that night. The kid’s whimpering and crying kept Junkrat awake and on edge. His heart twisted and ached in his chest. He didn’t have a bleeding heart, wasn’t his nature. But this kid, it was his fault the kid was missing a foot. Junkrat had to stay up to make sure the kid didn’t try to escape again. The kid wouldn’t get far anyway but still, couldn’t let him get away with that kind of injury. Kind of felt like he was keeping the kid prisoner here. Having the kid wrapped tight in the blanket and with Junkrat staring him down like a hawk, it was easy to make the comparison. Well, he didn’t have a choice. It was either take care of the kid or let the kid die. Again, Junkrat wasn’t that heartless. He did wish he had something, anything, to ease the kid’s pain.

                The same two dogs that fought over his arm earlier in the day sat around the fire pit. Their bodies appeared untouched by the mine’s blast. They faced the opening of the shack, looking at it with curious eyes. They came closer to the shack several times, poking their heads inside and checking on the kid before returning to the fire. Junkrat didn’t chase them off, as much as he wanted to. Seemed like they actually were concerned with the kid’s safety. It was strange. What did some mutts know about a human’s safety? Whatever. As long as they didn’t try to steal his arm again, they could dance a jig for all he cared.

                What time was it? He should’ve stolen a watch at the last settlement he visited. By the full moon high in the dark, cloudy sky, it had to be somewhere near midnight. At the same time, the kid went silent. No more crying or whimpering. Junkrat only heard the crackle of burning wood and the cicadas in the distance. The sudden silence was unsettling, almost unnatural. He wanted the noise to stop but not that quickly.

                “Kid?” Junkrat whispered, crawling towards the kid. He poked at the kid’s cheek, “Kid?” he repeated.

                The kid whined, snapped at the older man’s finger, and rolled over to face away from Junkrat.

                “‘Ey, keep yer little fangs to yerself!” Junkrat warned, sitting back down. “Just seein’ if yer still kickin’. Had to use half of my water to clean yer leg! You better be grateful I’m keepin’ you around! I coulda just…let you bleed out…” His voice trailed off as he then focused of the dancing flames. “Wouldn’t have a kid weighin’ me down if I did…”

                Sometimes, he didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. Just let his thoughts fall from his mouth like a running faucet. It got him in trouble on many occasions. Said things that he never actually meant. What he said was only half true. People died all the time. If dehydration, starvation, or radiation didn’t kill a person, murder and injury did someone in. Junkrat ran his left hand through his hair. No, he didn’t want the kid to die really. But the kid would die eventually, right? Especially living in a place like this dump pretty much by himself. It was a matter of time.

                Junkrat laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. His thoughts, repeating like a record in his mind, helped him drift off into a dreamless slumber.

***********************************

 

                “Come on, kid. You gotta eat somethin’. I ain’t keepin’ you alive because I like you.” Junkrat said, shoving a piece a dried meat in the kid’s direction.

                The kid gave the food a couple of glances then faced away from the older man again. He hadn’t eaten a thing or even moved from that spot in days. With all the attempts Junkrat made to give him food and water, the kid wasn’t taking any of his offers. Junkrat was getting frustrated. Did the kid want to die? He thought about force feeding the kid but it would, more than likely, end poorly. The kid probably had rabies or something. Last thing he needed was to get rabies himself.

                He was at his wits’ end. Junkrat huffed, “Fine, don’t eat. Just don’t come cryin’ to me when yer belly’s growlin’.” He left the kid by himself after that. Too tired and annoyed too keep fighting with the kid. He couldn’t refuse food and drink forever.

                Junkrat hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until he finally looked up to the sky. It was late afternoon. He was so focused on dismantling old and broken electronics that he never realized how much time passed. He could reduce a beat up car into mere scrap if given enough time. Junkrat got up and stretched, looking down at the piles of wires and unusable trash at his feet. He could remember even staring the destruction of what seemed to be a bunch of toasters from the circuit boards and metal shells. His thoughts went one-minded when it came to his work. He tuned out the whole world during those moments. It was the only time his mind wasn’t firing off like a semi-automatic. Junkrat then scratched his head. There was something he was forgetting, something important. It came to him as he gathered the wires up in his arms.

                Fuck, the kid. He forgot to check up on the kid. It been since this morning ne last seen that little beast.

                He didn’t rush back to the shack but he did walk a little faster than usual. If that kid was gone, all he did would be wasted. The dogs were laying just outside the shack’s entrance and sat up when Junkrat came near. The junker studied them suspiciously then entered the tiny home. Dumping the wires on the floor, he faced the location he saw the kid last. To Junkrat’s surprise, the kid was still in the same place he left him.

    “Thought he would’ve run off by now,” Junkrat mumbled to himself as he took a seat on the floor.

    The kid was chewing on something with much vigor, fur and blood coated the lower half of his face. The legs of a rabbit hung out of the kid’s mouth. The rest of the rabbit’s body was missing. It explained why the kid wasn’t eating; the dogs were feeding him. Two whole rabbits, thin but seemingly untouched by rads, laid dead in front of him. Junkrat grinned. About time to impressed the kid with some amazing cooking skills.

    “You can’t eat raw meat! Yer gonna get sick!” Junkrat exclaimed, grabbing the rabbits by their feet. “Gotta skin ‘em and cook ‘em up real nice over a fire. I bet you never had a good ol’ barbeque!”

    The kid dropped the legs, gave the older man a quizzical head tilt, and hopped after him as he left the shack.

    “I tell you, kid,” said Junkrat, starting another fire in the pit. “I’m the best cook across the Outback. No one can beat my food!”

    The kid barked in response, an excited little yap. Maybe in agreement, Junkrat wasn’t sure.

    He went on explaining the correct way to skin all kinds of animals to the kid, demonstrating on the rabbits and with hand gestures as if the kid would be able to do all of that himself. Junkrat was getting into it. Talking to someone that wasn’t himself, receiving actual replies though none of it was English. It was nice having a person by his side that didn’t find him utterly annoying or wasn’t to kill him. Friends and allies were hard to come by unless you were in a gang. Traveling the Wastes by yourself got lonely after a while, Junkrat had to admit.

    He skewered the fleshy rabbits onto long pieces of metal and grounded them into the dirt over the flame. He was getting sappy about some strange feral kid; must be really losing it.

    “’Ey kid,” said the junker while he watched their dinner cook slowly. “You got a name or somethin’?” He was curious. Might as well learn some things about his dump mate as he waited.

    The kid didn’t make a single noise. He just looked up as Junkrat quietly. His blue eyes looked a bit livelier now. They had a little sparkle to them.

    Junkrat rotated the rabbits a little. “How about Kidd? With an extra ‘D’, yeah? Easy for me to remember. Ain’t got the best memory in the world, y’know.”

    Kidd, responding positively to his new name, barked happily and bounced a little.

    “Here,” he handed Kidd a meat skewer. “Careful, it’s a bit hot. Don’t want you burnin’ yer tongue off.”

    Staring at the food and giving it a sniff, Kidd took a small bite. He gave Junkrat a wide smile and started taking bigger bite out of the roasted meat.

    “Tasty, ain’t it? Could’ve made something fancier if I had more to work with.”

    Kidd answered with a grunt as he continued eating. Junkrat was surprised. Something other than a bark coming from the kid? That was new.

    The kid wasn’t as bad as he thought really. Different and rough around the edges, kind of reminded him of himself. Not a lot, just a little.

    Not a drop of water came out of the canteen when Junkrat gave it a shake and held it upside down. He frowned and tossed it aside. The dogs moved out of the way as it bounced in their direction. It would take him a whole day to get to the nearest settlement and another to make it back here. That was if no one noticed him around town and tried to interrogate him. He scratched his cheek and groaned; he really didn’t want to go.

    A metal surface touched his skin, made Junkrat jump a little. Kidd was by his side, poking his bicep with his canteen over and over. The kid put the container in his little mouth and tugged on the older man’s wrist franticly.

    “What?” Junkrat asked with a raised eyebrow. “You want me to follow you?”

    Kidd grunted, hopped a few times, and began to limping to the southwest of their location. He turned back to Junkrat, waiting for him.

    What was the kid planning to do with his canteen? Humor him or joke around, maybe? No telling what was going on in that kid’s head. The joint in Junkrat’s peg leg creaked as he leaned on it to get up. “Alright, I’m comin’ but it better be somethin’ good.”

    In response, Kidd gave him another grunt and limped away once more.

    Kidd didn’t take Junkrat too far from the fire pit. Pretty much right around the corner or right around the very large trash pile, in their case. The kid grunted excitedly and limped faster, tripping over his hands then correcting himself. Kidd dropped the canteen and hopped up to an old water pump. It was made from metal painted light blue, weathered down and rusted from old age. A slab of concrete grounded the pump to the dirt. The pump’s lever squeaked as Kidd pushed and pulled on it. Crystal clear water flowed out the pump’s faucet in a small trickle then gushed out all over the ground. Kidd barked at Junkrat, who didn’t wait to pick up his canteen and put its opening under the running water.

    He took a greedy swig from it, almost recoiled in shock when the water hit his tongue. Irradiated water had a certain taste to it. A bitter taste that would sting the inside of someone’s mouth, bad if that person had mouth sores. The water from the old pump didn’t taste bitter at all. It was cool and refreshing with a tiny aftertaste of limestone and metal. Junkrat forgotten how cool water tasted like; it had been such a long time. He only heard about pockets of fresh underground water, never actually believed they existed.

    Junkrat removed the canteen from his lips, sighed and wiped his face with his forearm. Never had he had water that delicious before. A person get used to water heated and pumped full of chemicals to counteract the radiation. “Thanks, mate,” he said, giving Kidd a grin and a thumbs up.

    At the positive words, Kidd’s eyes lit up and he smiled back. He stopped working the pump when the older man got his fill.

    Junkrat was skeptical at first but the kid’s chances of survival were higher than he expected. He had food, water, and even shelter in this dump. Maybe the kid’s mortality rate was different from others? It was possible, the dogs were helping him only like Kidd was their family. He wasn’t alone. And neither was Junkrat.


	4. Doctor Vega

The foul stench coming from Kidd’s leg was strong enough to overpower the smell of rotting garbage in the dump. No matter how much Junkrat cleaned the leg and changed the bandage, it didn’t seem it was making a difference. The skin above the point of injury was beginning to discolor, turning dark blue and grey. Kidd was reduced to a shivering mess by a high fever he caught, bundled up tight in what was left of the blanket. He didn’t move, make noise, or smile. The only thing Kidd did, or was able to do, was drink water. It didn’t soothe the child’s fever and his health kept taking a nose dive. Junkrat muttered curses under his breath. The kid didn’t need some amateur treating his injuries. He needed a doctor, and a good one too.

                Junkrat knew of a certain person. Someone who owned him a big favor. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, say no to him; whatever the request. Though it meant going back to town and sneaking in to avoid the guards. Something he would figure out once he crossed that bridge. He had to get there first.

                “We’re goin’ on a lil trip,” he told Kidd. “Gotta get you all patched up and workin’ like yer normal self.” The child did not object and managed to sit himself upright. Junkrat picked Kidd up and carried him on his back. Kidd wrapped his arms around the man’s thin neck and his legs, as best as he could, around his torso.

                Junkrat, with Kidd in tow, left as he came a week ago to the dump. From the front entrance but before the break of dawn to beat the heat of the soon rising sun. The same dogs followed after them, crawling underneath the dump fence and running up to Junkrat’s side. It was more obvious how bad Kidd fever was now with his face pressed up against Junkrat’s neck. Hot but at the same time clammy, not a bad sign. The kid was still responsive and breathing, which was good sign.

                They had the whole day of walking ahead of them. It was the same as always but this time, Junkrat had a destination to get to. No more aimless wandering by his lonesome. But then again, did Kidd even like being with him? The thought was pushed aside by another thought, a story actually.

                “Did I tell you about the time I took out a whole gang of Junkers by myself?” asked Junkrat. The growing excitement in his voice was hard to cover up. He had been alone for such a long time. He hadn’t shared any of his crazy tales with anyone.

                Kidd grunted and tightened his grip on Junkrat’s neck.

                “Oh, you shoulda see it, kid! There I was, surrounded, nowhere to run. Starin’ death right in the face. But Junkrat wasn’t goin’ down that easily, no sir!” Junkrat went on and on with his stories. Hopping to imitate various explosions with sound effects, laughing at his own jokes, and twirling about in glee. He hadn’t been this happy in ages.

                Though his laughter was weak, Kidd seemed to be enjoying the man’s stories.

                Nightfall came quick thanks to Junkrat’s ramblings. The clusters of lights in the town made the settlement stick out like a sore thumb in the dark. Junkrat sifted through his head for the name of the particular settlement yards in front of him. Haven; that was the name. A stupid name, he thought. There was no haven in this country. Junkrat hid behind a large rock, observing the two guards under the spotlights at the town’s front gate. He steadied his breathing and gripped the surface of the rock. How the hell was he getting pass them? They would never let him just stroll on in, no matter what. He could run in screaming, throwing grenades like nobody’s business. That wouldn’t work, too much attention and they would shoot him down at a moment’s notice. He didn’t think most of the time but Junkrat was no idiot. There had to be another way.

                Without warning, the dogs ran ahead at the guards. Junkrat tried to get them to come back but there was no stopping the beasts. They managed to grab the attention of both the guards and the spotlights, leading them away from the gate. The guards shouted curses as they ran after the dogs, taking pot shots at them. This was some kind of blessing in disguise or those dogs could read his mind. Whatever it was, Junkrat wasn’t wasting the opportunity. It was now or never.

                He left the safety behind the rock ad sneaked quickly towards the gate. They kept the doors locked during the night but he had to know the ins and outs of all the settlements for easy escapes. A section of the scrap metal constructed wall surrounding the town had a hole just big enough for a person to fit through. Junkrat felt around in the dim red light of a neon sign. It was somewhere around here. He stopped when his hands touched the smooth surface of another rock. Bingo! Junkrat grunted as he used all his might to push the rock aside. First, he slipped Kidd through the gap. Both of them couldn’t fit in the hole at the same time. He followed by getting down on his stomach and crawling on his elbows. Covering the hole with a loose sheet of metal, Junkrat returned Kidd to his back.

                _Vega’s Back-Alley Clinic: No Refunds_ , the white neon sign flashed in a slow pattern at the top of the medium sized building made of wood and metal. Going through the front entrance was a big no-no, everyone would see him. Junkrat went to the back of the building from a side alley. If he remember correctly, the clinic had a backdoor. His crap memory didn’t fail him this time. There was a locked metal door leading to the alley he was in. Junkrat raised his fist up to the door and paused; he knew what would happen next. He breathed and knocked firmly.

                “Who the hell is knockin’…?” Junkrat heard a gruff woman’s voice say on the other side of the door. The floor creaked as the building owner came closer. The door opened outwards, yellow light flooded over Junkrat and the alley. A middle aged, plump, dark skinned woman stared down at him.

                She blinked several times. “Rat Man?” she said, almost speechless.

                Junkrat raised an open hand to her. “Been a while, ain’t it, doc?”

                The doctor glared and snagged him by the ear. “Rat Man…” she growled.

                “Ow ow ow!” Junkrat tried to muffle his voice as he squeaked out in pain.

                “I thought I told you not to come back!” she hissed, “Are you tryin’ to get both of us killed?”

                “Maybe,” he shrugged, “Might as well kill two birdies with one stone.”

                The doctor, Vega, tugged on his ear. “Yer a little shit, you know that?” She released his ear from the vice grip, crossed her arms, and sidestepped out the way. “Now get the hell inside before someone sees yer ugly mug.”

                Junkrat up the wood stairs and smirked as he passed by the small woman. “I’m quite proud of this mug, y’know.”

                “Shame,” she closed and bolted the door behind them. “A bit of reconstructive surgery could fix that.”

                “Gotta pass of that offer, doc.”

                The whole place was small on the inside, filled to the brim with things in clouded jars of unidentifiable brown liquid on shelves with medical supplies. It smelt like disinfectant. A ratty, beige couch facing away from the front door beckoned Junkrat’s tried leg muscles. He laid the sleeping Kidd on the couch then flopped down beside the kid. He propped his legs on the worn coffee, it had seen much better years.

                “You look shit, Rat Man. More than usual,” Vega said. She dug around in her large, sandy red afro and pulled out a dented flask. She tossed it to Junkrat, who snatched it out the air. Vega was a tiny woman, barely came up to his shoulder, but she made up for it in weight. Twice his senior, she still looked young for being middle aged. Maybe it was the disinfectant? “Who’s the pipsqueak?” she asked, pointing at Kidd.

                Junkrat opened up the flask and gave it a sniff. Vodka, the pure grain stuff. Always made his eyes water but he needed a drink. “Been tough these few days. Been livin’ in a dump.” He took a swig, recoiled at the burning sensation in his throat and swallowed hard. “This is Kidd. Found him in the dump livin’ with a bunch of mutts.”

                Vega sat down in a worn, matching armchair by the couch. She pushed Junkrat’s legs off the coffee table. “A dump? You mean yer usual livin’ conditions? And Kidd? Because he’s a kid?” she chuckled. “Always knew you were shit at names, Rat Man. Still workin’ that RIP-Tire of yers?”

                “’Ey!” Junkrat was almost offended. Almost. “It’s still in the works. That baby’s gonna make the biggest explosion I’ve ever made!”

                She chuckled again, “I bet,” and crossed her legs. “Now tell me why the hell yer back in the shithole that is Haven? I know it ain’t to get chummy with me again.”

                “Well,” Junkrat rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You know that favor you owe me? The one where I saved your ass from bein’ robbed?”

                Vega’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, don’t remind me. That was horrible. Lost half of my specimen collection in that little battle…”

                “Well, the kid needs a good doctor…”

                “Jamison,” Vega said in a low tone as she leaned forward in her chair. Her amber eyes pierced through him like a knife. “What did you do?”

                Junkrat tensed up. He knew the good doctor from his teen years when he lost his leg. She only used his real name when she was dead serious and meant business.

                “It was an accident, I swear! I just wanted my arm back from those damn dogs. I didn’t know that the kid would step on my mine instead!” He went on like a guilty child, pulling at his hairs and chewing on his metal index finger.

                Vega sighed and shook her head, “God, Jamison. How bad is it?”

                He lifted up the blanket and the smell of the infected leg, a sour smell, mixed with the disinfectant in the air.

                The doctor got up and came over to the two. “Gangrene. Why didn’t you see me earlier?” she scolded. “Did you think you could fix this yerself?”

                Junkrat, for once, was quiet. He couldn’t make eye contact with her.

                Vega picked Kidd up and said, “The human body ain’t made scrap parts and wirin’, Jamison. It’s more complicated than that. Stay here and don’t touch my shit.” The doctor retreated to the back of the clinic, leaving Junkrat with his guilty conscious.

 

                _All you know is how to hurt people…_

              A pencil scribbled furiously cross the paper’s surface, turning thoughts into drawings and strings of words that didn’t come out to me sentences. Plans for the future and assembly directions; all written in chicken scratch handwriting. Junkrat took another drink from the flask. The world around him was going in slow motion and his head spun. Fuck, he wasn’t planning on getting tipsy.

_Yes you did. You felt sorry for yerself…_

             He tossed the pencil aside and stood up, shoving the papers in the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t care if they got crumpled. Pictures nailed to the wall to his left grabbed his attention at the moment. There had to be pictures of several dozen of Vega’s ex-patients covering that wall. The patients differ from age, skin color, shape, and gender from one another. All of them were either smiling or giving the camera a thumbs up. All except one. A blond haired kid faced away from the camera in his photo, side-eyeing the person taking the picture.

 _Jamison, Age 12, Leg Amputation_ ; the description on the bottom of the photo read.

          Junkrat could barely remember the doctor taking that picture of him. Felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe because it kind of was.

         “Relivin’ old memories, eh, Rat Man?” Doctor Vega approached Junkrat from the side, pulled off her bloodied rubber gloves, and removed her paper mask from her lower face. She looked up at the wall also with a smile. “You were a stubborn bastard back then. Still are now.”

         “How’s…how’s the kid?” he asked. His words kind of fell out of his mouth.

“Sleepin’” Vega replied. “Surgery went well. Gonna take his picture when he wakes up. Now you two got a pair of legs between you.” She joked.

Junkrat didn’t say a word.

Vega gave the younger man a pat on his shoulder. “Don’t feel too bad. You said it was an accident. It ain’t good to dwell on it. Now chin up, I’ll make you some dinner.” She left his side again and headed for the kitchen.

_All you know is how to hurt people. A monster of mayhem…_

Junkrat let out a heavy sigh and followed after Vega.

_You don’t deserve Kidd…_

The ceiling fan rotated over him as Junkrat sat in a wooden chair by Kidd’s bedside, leaning his head back in the seat. He twitched, bounced his leg, and messed with his arm. He hated staying still and the hangover from last night’s little reunion irritated him even more. Junkrat shifted his weight and yawned. He waited the longest time for Kidd to wake up. As much as he wanted to stay in a real house with actual food, the longer he stayed in town, the greater the chance of getting seen. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to take a nap. Made time go by faster.

“Ruu-Ahh?”

Junkrat’s eyes snapped open and he lifted up his head. Kidd was looking right at him, eyes half opened and a tiny smile on his round face. That was the first time he heard the kid try to form a word. Was the kid trying to say his name? And was he smiling because he was hopped up on painkillers? Junkrat knew Kidd wasn’t smiling because of him.

“Ruu-Ahh,” Kidd repeated. He started to climb out the bed and into Junkrat’s lap.

Junkrat sat there, hands in the air and wide eyed, not sure what to do. Why him? He wasn’t the best person to show affection. It was strange and made him feel things. Things he didn’t understand or quite comprehend.

Kidd settled himself on the man’s lap, looking down at his left leg and giving it a wiggle. The leg was amputated above the knee, just like Junkrat’s. A black stitch going across the end of his leg was neat and clean. Vega always did a good job with her work. Kidd whined and looked up at Junkrat.

“What? Worried ‘bout yer leg?” Junkrat asked and kicked up his peg leg. “You can get yerself a neat peggy leg like mine if you want.”

Kidd frowned and whined again, high pitched and throaty.

Junkrat raised an eyebrow, “No? Yeah, yer right. A peg leg ain’t yer thing. You need somethin’ more mobile and bouncy.”

“You two awake already?” said Vega from the door way. The appearance of a stranger made Kidd hide his face in his hands.

Turning around in his chair, Junkrat replied, “Yeah, ‘bout to get the hell outta here. Can’t stay for too long.”

“Sorry, Rat Man. I can’t let you. Kidd still has a nasty fever.”

He hadn’t realized it but Kidd was still burning up, just like the doctor said, though in good spirits. What a strange kid. Junkrat pouted, “Ugh, how long is this gonna take, doc?” he asked.

“A few day, give or take,” she said. The doctor came over to the two with a camera in her hands. Kidd uncovered his face and looked at it with curiosity. It was an old Polaroid camera model, not one of those fancy digital or holo cameras the other countries had. “Just lemme take the pipsqueak’s picture and I’ll leave you guys alone.” She held up the camera to her left eye but Kidd hid his face in Junkrat’s chest.

Vega frowned and lowered the camera, “Aw, don’t be like that, pipsqueak. I’m just taking a picture. That’s all,” she said reassuringly, then looked over at Junkrat. “He feels safe with you, y’know. It’s kinda cute…”

“It’s just a fluke, doc,” he said. “The kid needs me to survive out there. Couldn’t let him be dingo food. I help him and he helps me.”

“That’s symbiosis, Rat Man.”

“Symbio-what now? What kinda fancy word you sayin’, doc?” Junkrat said, letting Kidd climb up on his shoulder and perch there like a bird on his good leg.

Vega rolled her eyes, “Never mind,” She lifted the camera up to her eye again. “Just keep the kid still. He’s in the right position.” The shutter fired off and the flash flickered. A blackened photo ejected slowly out of the camera. Vega shook the picture then looked at it. A smile spread across her face and she showed it to Junkrat. “Look at this! The kid looks like a damn owl!”

The doctor was right. Kidd had his chin resting on Junkrat’s hair, buried in blond strands. His pupils were dilated at the sudden light coming from the camera’s flash. The once matted hair on his head appeared fluffed up, defensive and ready to make a run for it. Kidd looked more like a frightened animal than a little boy.

“How old is the kid?” Vega asked, taking Kidd’s chin in hand and admiring his face. Kidd pulled away from the woman’s grasp and growled at her. “Feisty kid, aren’t ya?” Vega sneered.

“Dunno. Maybe six or seven.”

“Hmm, a bit small for his age,” Vega commented as she written the information on the white section of the picture. She waved at them, walking towards the door. “Alright, that’s it. See ya later, boys.”

It was quiet again. The low drone of the ceiling fan spinning and their breathing were the only sounds in the room. Junkrat pulled Kidd off his shoulder and sat him back down on the old bed. He whined and kicked a little when the older man covered him with the rough green blanket.

“Alright, kid.” Said Junkrat, pointing his finger at Kidd. “You gotta get better quick. My neck is on the line the longer we stay here. I ain’t dyin’ yet.”

It had to be something he said because Kidd’s eyes grew as wild as hub caps.

“Kid?” Did he break the kid or something?

Kidd gripped the blanket tight, tears started to pool at the edges of his eyes and snot flowed from his nose. Not a second later, Kidd started wailing. It wasn’t the same as the pained cries Junkrat heard days before. Something about it made him feel awful instead of annoyed or wanting to pull his hair out. Junkrat’s hands hovered over the crying child, he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He wasn’t good at comforting people at all. What the hell did he do to make the kid cry? Would a hug making the crying stop? Or holding him?

Junkrat picked up Kidd and held the child awkwardly close to his chest. He was very uncomfortable doing something like this. It was an all-new territory he was crossing in to. Kidd thrashed a bit but quickly settled down in the Junker’s arms. He shoved his face in the man’s chest. Warm tears and snot coated Junkrat’s skin along with the dirt that had become his second skin. The kid’s hiccupping and ragged breath started to draw itself out, slowly and more even paced. Then his little body went heavy and limp, way too fast than the man expected.

Panic washed over Junkrat but soon was replaced by relief. The kid just fell asleep, he was still alive and kicking. He laid Kidd back in bed and covered him up again. Good thing that was over quick. Didn’t think he could handle that aching awkwardness for much long.

The click of a camera cause Junkrat to whip around. Vega was standing in the doorway again with the camera still in her hands. The biggest shit eating grin was on the woman’s face as a picture spat out of the device. “That was so damn adorable…” she whispered.

“I will burn that picture, blow up that camera, and eat the pieces.” Junkrat threatened. He knew she would never let him live that down.


	5. Colors

Colors, oh so many colors. The world around you was filled with different colors. Brown was the ground, dry and kicking up in the wind. Blue was the sky, another world stretched about the world you knew. Orange was the sunrise and Rat, both bright and warm. Yellow was the memory of lemon candy your mother would give you after dinner. Black was the night and the cicadas crying out for hours. White was the stars; you knew they came out during the night but where did they go in the daytime? Red was the blood leaking from your father’s head, his brain and skull pieces spattered all over you.

                You stared at the old package of crayons and all the colors within the dented cardboard pack. The big lady was nice enough to give them to you and paper to pass the time with. You hesitated opening the pack as you laid on your stomach across the wooden floor, paper scattered around you. Rat was nearby, doodling on paper also and chewing on the end of his pencil. You wanted to draw something, something nice. Out came the orange crayon and you pressed it against a piece of paper. You had an idea what you wanted to draw out. You smiled as you scribbled out your masterpiece. When you were finished, you shoved the picture into Rat’s face with a grin on your face.

                Rat pulled the picture away from his face, looked at it for a moment, and then showed it to you. “Is this ‘pose to be me?” he asked.

                You nodded and pointed at the older man, saying, “Ra!”

                The drawing wasn’t perfect. It was a kid’s drawing but it got all of Rat’s features down accurate. Pointed teeth, metal arm, tall, peg leg; yep, it looked just like Rat.

                He smiled, “Look great, mate!” and he gave you a thumbs up.

                That was a good thing, right? Rat was smiling at you so he had to like it. Praise, you liked the praise you got from Rat. It made you feel warm and fuzzy in your belly. You watched him fold up the drawing and stuff in his pocket.

                You returned back to drawing, doodling small figures on a single piece of paper with different colors. The dogs you lived with in brown, the sun in orange, Rat and you together, and a leafy plant in green. But you got to the red crayon, your hand trembled over it. All you could think about was the blood colored crayon. Blood from the wild animals you ate, blood from your leg, blood from the dogs’ injuries, blood from your parents… You swallowed and sweated. You felt sick to your stomach. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes and you sniffled. You wanted things to go back to they were before.

                “Kid?” Rat asked. There was worry and confusion in his amber eyes.

                You looked up at Rat. You weren’t the best with words so convey your thoughts wasn’t an option. The memory of words and complete sentences left your mind years ago. Pictures, you could draw more pictures. It was the best solution, the only way. You gathered the crayons and paper and scooted closer to the older man. He seemed a little uncomfortable around you. You didn’t understand why. You started drawing furiously, almost snapping the crayons in the process. A grunt came out your mouth, louder than ever.

                “What? You wanna show me somethin’?”

                Excited that he understood, you nodded quickly. Your head would fall off if nodded hard enough. You shoved the drawing in the man’s face again. Personal space? You never knew what that was.

 

                You were younger back then, bright eyed and full of curiosity at the irradiated world you were born in. The only family you had was your mother and father, that’s all you needed. You lived in a wooden house in the middle of nowhere but you had everything you to thrive. Food, water, toys, love; it was like a tiny paradise to you.

                But the colors, you remember the colors the most. The brown of your father’s warm skin and the dirt under your bare feet. The cream color of your mother’s face, you loved her bright smile. Green was the crops your parents grew in the dry weather, you help them sometimes. Food was in no short supply for the three of you. The blush in your mother’s cheek when she laughed was the liveliest of reds you seen. It was like music to your little ears. Silver was the small wind-up music box you were given to during your fourth birthday. It played the sweetest tune and helped you go to bed every night.

                “ _Come to papa, baby girl_ ,” Your father would say and wrap his muscular arms around you. His chuckle still echoes in your head. Life was good, pure in the wasteland.

                Then the bad people came.

                They came so suddenly at sunrise. The roar of their trucks and motorcycles shook your home. It felt like an earthquake under your feet. Your parents gathered you up and took you outside. The fear in their eyes, why were they scared? Grown-ups were supposed to be strong and brave. You weren’t sure what was going on.

You saw the bad people when you went outside. They wore dirty clothes, had rusted metal strapped to their bodies, and metal masks. They screamed, shouted, and laughed.  They pointed strange things at you, you never saw those metal…things in your life. Your father approached the bad people talking to them in the nicest voice he had.

An explosion rang out, echoed through the emptiness all around them. And your father was suddenly on the ground and your mother screamed, cried over him. Red, all you saw was red. On the ground, on your father, on _you_. You shook your father’s arm but he didn’t move. His eyes stared up at the sky, unblinking. Your mother tried to pull you away but the bad people grabbed by her long blonde hair and dragged her back to the house. You cried for your mother, ran after her but the bad people pushed you down to the dirt. One of the bad people hit you in the head when you tried again. The pain was unbearable, your ears rang and then the world disappeared.

It was night when you woke up. You were cold, hungry, and thirsty. You called out for your parents, wailing almost. There was no answer. Your father was still on the ground. He had grown cold and stiff, he still wouldn’t move when you called his name. Tired, you curled up beside his body and went back to sleep. It was so difficult to sleep with the painful pangs of hungry in your belly.

You were so hungry. The bad people took all the food in your home. You had nothing. Rocks and dirt only filled your stomach so much. Birds, big black birds, had started poking at your father’s body. Tearing through his clothes and eating at his flesh. You chased them away, your father now had holes in his skin from the birds’ sharp beaks. The smell of blood made your stomach growl.

You were so hungry.

You sobbed the whole time as you dug your small fingers into his body. Red covered your face and hands, you tasted the red. The meat tasted strange and you could barely keep it down but is was still food. Precious, precious food.

 

 

                Junkrat couldn’t believe what he was hearing, or seeing, in that matter of fact. “You…ate yer old man…just to keep livin’,” He felt his heart sink into his stomach and churn. Eating people, even the people of the Outback didn’t cannibalized others. It was rare to see cannibals. Especially children ones.

                “Kid…” he whispered then looked away. What could he possibly say to make the kid feel better about this? He admired the kid’s sense of survival, his will to keep living. At least Junkrat knew why the kid had a taste for raw meat, though the reasoning being so morbid.

                Tears fell from Kidd’s eyes, staining the crumpled piece of paper in his hands. He balled in up and tossed it aside. Kidd shuffled himself up onto Junkrat’s lap and curled up in the gap between the man’s crossed legs. Junkrat didn’t say a word, only rested his metal hand gently on the kid’s back. The kid’s flinched at the touch then relaxed his whole body, molding himself to the size of the gap.

                Junkrat relaxed and gave Kidd several pats on his back. Not too hard but the child’s body let out a hollow rattle from his thinness. His eyes moved over to the multiple child drawings on the floor and stared at all of them. There had to be about twenty of them all around him. He picked one of them up, one that stood out to him the most: the one with the _‘bad people’_ on it. How Kidd drew them, though low quality, seemed familiar to Junkrat. He’d seen these _‘bad people’_ before. Where or who didn’t come to mind, sadly. It would come to him eventually.

                “Are you boys ready to get the hell outta here?” Vega announced proudly at the doorway with a bag draped over her shoulder. When she felt the tension in the room, she frowned. “Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

                “Nah,” Junkrat lied. What was he supposed to even say? _Yeah, the kid ate his dad years ago._ No, Vega wouldn’t want to hear something like that. Junkrat didn’t want to believe it himself. He had some trouble getting up with Kidd but the child made it clear he wasn’t moving anytime soon. “Let’s just get outta of here. We stayed long enough, I miss seein’ the sky.”

                “The beautiful irradiated sky,” Vega added jokingly.

                “The only sky I’ve ever know.”

                Vega’s body stiffened at Junkrat’s comment and she stopped walking. The smile on her face disappeared and she stared vacantly at the wall in front of her. She was a young adult when the big kaboom happened, always a touchy subject with her. It slipped his mind again. He had done it before, the last he seen the good doctor. Many times, Junkrat wonder what was going on in her mind during those times.

                Junkrat tucked Kidd under his arm like a package and placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Vee?” he called out one of the many nicknames he had given her. Vega not being loud or spitting out witty comebacks every time she opened her mouth was abnormal. “Doc?” he said and gave her a little shake.

                Vega blinked a couple of times then looked up at Junkrat, smiling at him. “’ey Rat Man. You ready to get outta here?” She tapped the bag on her shoulder. It appeared to her as if they never had the conversation about the sky. “Got the perfect plan to smuggle you outta here.”

 

                It was difficult to stay still and breathe normally squished up in a burlap sack, Junkrat learned. He was unable to see what was going on with the world outside. Junkrat grumbled to himself quietly so no one near would hear him. He was the only one forced into a sack like a kidnap victim and people would be none the wiser to his presence. Why did he agree to a dumb plan like this?

                The engine of Vega’s beat-up truck sputtered to life and he slid about on the truck’s metal bed as it drove forward. Kidd wasn’t stuffed in a sack like he was. The front seat was much more comforting than an itchy bag. The truck came to a halt and Junkrat slid again across the bed. His side slammed up against the truck’s siding, making a loud _thump_ sound. He had to cover his mouth to keep from giving away his position. The sudden stop was the town’s checkpoint, it had to be, and there was no doubt about it.

                “’Ey Lazlo,” Junkrat hear Vega greeted in a honeyed voice. Sweet words that men and woman in like honeybees. Most never realize it was all just a ruse. Junkrat never fell for Vega’s woman trick. Of course he wouldn’t, he’d known her since he was a teenager. “Yer lookin’ fine today. Have you been workin’ out again?”

                “Where you headin’ off to, doc?” A breathy voice asked, likely the guard she referred to by name.

                “Just headin’ to another settlement.” Vega replied, an obvious lie. “Got a signal that they need a surgeon. Really, yer lookin’ quite charmin’ today.”

                “T-thanks…” Lazlo stammered. If only Junkrat could see the look on the guy’s face. Probably squirming and hot under the collar at the doctor’s sweetened words. She probably winked and blew him a kiss too for good measure. “Y-you can pass through, doctor. Have a safe tip out there.”

                “Thanks, darlin’!” She shouted and the truck lunged forward, sliding Junkrat again. The back of his head banged against the siding above the tires and he shouted a stream of curses and he cradled his skull.

                “You okay back there, Rat Man?” Vega called out over the engine’s roar. “Did you conk yer noggin on the bed?”

                Junkrat couldn’t answer back. The engine was too loud and there was no way for her to actually hear him. Another reason why being trapped in a bag was a terrible idea from the beginning. But it was the only way to get out of the town undetected. Still a bad idea though.

                The truck came to a screeching halt. Hatches unlocked and their squeaking made Junkrat ears ring a little. The sack ruffled and its knotted opening was undone. Sudden attack from the bright sunlight burned his eyes and he raised his hand to shield them. Vega gripped him by his biceps and picked his up with ease. The doctor was always a strangely strong woman for her age.

                Haven was gone, no longer in view in all directions. Good, being in town made him paranoid. The doctor opened the driver side door, threw Rat in, and slid into the seat herself. Her hand grabbed the stick shift and she put it in gear. It stuck a bit but she got in working for her.

                “Ugh, rough me up why don’t you.” Junkrat complained, rolling his shoulder a few times in its socket and sat properly in the leather seat. “I thought you were such a lady.”

“My body isn’t just filled to the brim with raw sexual energy!” She replied with a wink.

Junkrat mumbled, “Didn’t know an old sheila like you could still get any…”

“What was that?” There was fire, pure rage, in the older lady’s eyes.

Junkrat flinched in the battered seat, edging his body away from Vega. “N-nothin’, I said nothing…” He chuckled nervously.

Kidd defused the situation between the adults when sat back in Junkrat’s lap. The way the kid stared up at him, all sparkly eyed and full of wonder towards him. Junkrat wasn’t sure to feel uncomfortable and bashful or to soak in the kid’s attention. Never had he had someone, anyone, look at him like Kidd did. It was a little embarrassing. Kidd’s eyes wandered from Junkrat’s eyes to the tattoo on the man’s right bicep. Little fingers touched the flaming skull, tracing over it then blue eyes met brown eyes again.

“Like my ink? “ Junkrat asked with a smirk on his face. “You can get one with yer thirteen.”

“Rat!” Vega shouted, astonished.

Junkrat groaned, “Fine, sixteen.”

“That’s not any better, you lil shit!”

Kidd’s eyes broke contact with Junkrat’s and focused on the world passing by outside the open window. There had to be something that caught Kidd’s attention because he started barking loudly. Kidd almost leapt out of the moving truck if Junkrat didn’t grabbed him by the shirt collar first.

“’Ey!” said Vega, keeping her eyes locked on the road. “Keep yer hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times!”

“Kid, are you lookin’ for a death wish?!” Junkrat tried pulling Kidd away from the window but the kid wasn’t having it. There was a clue in Kidd’s bark, wiggling and scratching at the door. He saw something out there and wanted to either show them or get to it, Junkrat knew for sure.

“Stop the truck.”

Vega glanced at him, confused, “Wait, what now?”

“I said stop the damn truck!” Junkrat raised his voice. He was close to reaching over and pressing the brake himself.

He saw the doctor’s eyebrow twitch and she slammed down on the brake pedal hard. Everyone shifted forward at the vehicle coming to a screeching halt. He watched her tighten her grip around the leather steering wheel and she glared at him in silence.

Kidd launched himself out the open window and he bolted straight ahead.

Junkrat leaned out the window, “Kidd!” he called the child’s name. Kidd was thirty feet away from the truck when he stopped and replied with wild, frantic barks, bouncing up and down.

The older man tilted his head to side, question hitting him a mile a minute. What was it that the kid wanted to show him? It boggled his brain of all the possibilities, all the reasons. Or did the kid find some kind of loot.

And then the door disappeared from underneath him.

Junkrat fell and tumbled across the dirt, coming to a stop on his back and staring up at the sky.

“No one tells me what to do, Rat Man!” Vega yelled and closed the door. “That’s for shoutin’ at me!”

It was in the heat of the moment, he thought. He shouldn’t have yell at her. But he was on a mission now. Junkrat hopped to his feet, brushed off the excess dirt from his chest, and went after the kid. Not quickly, he wasn’t in a rush. Kidd stopped from time to time, looking back at Junkrat, only to run ahead when the Junker got close.

“Rat Man, are you sure this kid is leadin’ you somewhere?” Vega drove at a snail’s pace next to the man. “I’m wastin’ petrol on the lil pipsqueak.”

Junkrat didn’t answer at first and kept walking. He had no reason to doubt Kidd. He felt completely offended at the doctor for her statement. The kid helped him survive, kept him company during the late hours of nighttime, even welcome him into the little dog pack. It was the only sense of friends and safety he had in a long time. He even slept in a big pile with the kid and the mutts when the nights grew chilly.

“I know the kid wants to show me somethin’ important. You know I’m stubborn, doc.” Junkrat stated with a grin.

Vega shrugged, “Whatever you say, I guess.”

 

An hour of walking give Junkrat some kind of result, something he wasn’t expecting. Abandoned and left to burn in the unforgiving Outback sun was a wooden cottage out in the middle of nowhere. Junkrat had seen this house before but where was lost in a mental haze. Kidd sat at the Junker’s feet, holding on to his ragged shorts with tiny hands. He trembled as he looked over his shoulder back at the house, scooting as close as he could to the older man.

Junkrat picked up Kidd and held him in one arm. He asked, “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Un!” Kidd grunted his reply and nodded.

He hopped out Junkrat’s arm and hobbled over to objects buried half way in the dirt. Tattered red plaid fabric fluttered in the hot breeze, torn and no longer resembling what it used to be. Sun bleached bones stuck out of the ground like a land marker, thirty percent of the skeleton was either missing or shattered to pieces. The skull remained intact but was missing its lower jaw. Kidd settled himself next to the partial skeleton, staring at it as if it may get up and start moving again.

Slowly, the pieces began to fall in place in Junkrat’s head. The wooden house, the skeleton, the pictures Kidd drew. It wasn’t a random house, this was Kidd’s old house. And the skeleton was his eaten and deceased father.


	6. House of Secrets

A sense of dread overwhelmed Junkrat as he, Vega, and Kidd approached the abandoned house. It choked out the feeling of security and bravery he had, along with his blind stupidity. He didn’t want to enter the house, Junkrat was never the type to be scared easily. You couldn’t afford to be scared in this world but here the Junker was, hands tightly clinched into fists.

                “You feel it too, Rat Man?” Vega’s voice tore him from his inter fear, shaky and in a whisper. “The sadness, dread, and despair.  This house is the ultimate source for it. You sure you wanna go in there?”

                Junkrat forced himself to nod his head. “I have to, doc. I gotta find out who the drongos are that did this to the kid. I ain’t turnin’ tail now.”

                Vega sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure you two don’t die horribly.”

From a crudely sown together leather holster attached to her hip, the doctor retrieved a pistol. Just like the holster it came from, the pistol was of low quality also. Made out of a block of wood, springs, and old pieces of metal, the gun was surprisingly sturdy as hell. Vega was no stranger to small hand guns. Junkrat had seen her take down three bandits with a single bullet. She knew had to defend herself if needed, unless she was out gunned. That’s when Junkrat came in and blew some bastards’ faces off.

“Stay here, sweetheart.” Said Vega as she loaded bullets in the gun’s chamber. “Gotta scope out the inside to make sure no baddies get us.”

“Got it,” Junkrat replied.

“I was talkin’ to the pipsqueak.”

With a huff, Junkrat folded his arms over his chest. “Yer rude as hell, you know. I could die out here. Then you’ll be wonderin’: ‘ _Where poor, poor Junkrat go? I shoulda been nicer to that handsome and smart and charmin’ man.’_ ”

Vega chuckled, “Stick to explosives, Rat Man. You’re a shit comedian,” then she went ahead and travelled up the rickety wooden steps. She stopped on a dime when she got to the porch and seemingly stared down at her feet. The doctor didn’t stay too long at that one place. She opened up the old screen door and disappeared into the dark house.

Kidd stood close by to Junkrat. His little fingers entwined with the man’s dirty gloved hand as he balanced on his remaining feet. The little kid barely came up to the Junker’s bony hip. Maybe if his hair wasn’t so matted to his skull, he would be a bit taller. Junkrat had no problem with how close the kid was to him now. The little pup had grown on him and the kid seemed to like him too, very much actually. Kidd was a child that liked personal contact with others, Junkrat noticed. He was the same way. Hugs, hand holding, praise; positive attention was hard to come by in a damned place like this.

A scream and a gunshot rang out from within the house, loud and high pitched. Panic immediately set in when the scream echoed through the empty terrain. Junkrat’s body tensed up, ready to spring into action and kick down the door at a moment’s notice.

The dirt covered front window slid open and Vega stuck her head out. “Sorry, sorry!” The doctor apologized sheepishly. “I saw this massive spider and I got scared! Everythin’s clear in here!”

Junkrat relaxed at the woman’s words. He can’t believe a woman who deals with blood and guts every day is afraid of spiders.

Releasing Junkrat’s hand, Kidd limped onward and hopped up the several steps in front of him. Junkrat was close behind, steadying the kid when he lost his balance. Just like the doctor, Kidd stopped at the top of the porch and he pressed his face against the wood. No, not his face but his nose. He was sniffing, scratching at the wood with his nails. The porch, in the area Kidd sniffed at, was stained a darker brown than the rest of porch. It was a very particular sized spot on the floor’s surface. But it wasn’t time to play detective. It took Junkrat the longest time to move Kidd from that spot. The kid was stronger than he looked.

Stale air and more dust filled Junkrat’s lungs as he and Kidd entered the house. The sense of dread was stronger within the wall of the shelter, it was colder inside than the outside. It should have brought relief from the dry heat but there was no relief in this place. A layer of dust and dirt coated every surface, nothing was safe from the assault of time. Furniture, counters, dressers, tables, lamps, and chairs, all appeared to come from another time period.

Junkrat set Kidd down in a dirty floral armchair and headed for the kitchen nearby. He wondered if there was any food as he searched madly through the cabinets. The kid wasn’t lying, the _‘bad people’_ cleaned the whole kitchen completely. All except a single tin can tucked away in the corner on the top shelf.

“Now we’re talkin’” Junkrat said, snatching up the can. The paper label wrapped around the rusted can was faded but readable. Baked beans, the label read. He bit down on the can’s edge and grunted as his teeth only left dents in the metal surface. He resulted in banging the can against the wood counter. “Come on! Open up, you stupid mother–”

“Un!” Kidd was by Junkrat’s side again, tugging on his frayed camo shorts. “Un un uh!” the kid grunted, looking up at the Junker.

Junkrat halted his can assault and looked back at Kidd. “What I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’ important.” He didn’t want to sound mean or annoying but he really wanted those beans.

Kidd bounced over to the end of the counter, closer to the hallway leading to the rest of the house. He opened a drawer, dug around through it, and pulled out an old can opener. The kid shoved it eagerly in Junkrat’s direction. “Uh!”

Junkrat grabbed the can opener from Kidd and gave it a look over. It had been a long while since he seen one of those. The sight of a can opener was nearly foreign to him. The tool was used well and rusty, just like everything else, but still functional. This was Kidd’s old house, of course he would remember where a few things were.

“Thanks, mate.” Mumbling Junkrat as he fiddled with the can and the can opener, all his focus now on these two objects. He made quick work of the can and its lid popped of easily. “There we go…”

Drawers opened and Junkrat searched for a spoon of some sorts. Dirty utensils lined the inside of the drawer in a neat stack. Junkrat took a spoon on top of the pile, not caring to wipe the dirt off, stuffed the spoon into the beans and sat down in a chair by the window. Kidd settled himself at Junkrat’s feet, smiling up at the older man like a happy little puppy and wagging his backside like he had a tail.

Shoving a spoonful of beans into his mouth, Junkrat recalled the familiar taste of the canned food. Sweet and cold, another memory from another time. He breathed a sigh out from his nose and his gaze drifted to the backyard outside the window next to him. Tilled soil, ground fenced off, brown dead plants; looked like someone tried to grow something out there. He shook his head, like you could grow anything without it dying or being irradiated. _Crazy people_ , he thought then frowned later after. That was Kidd’s parents he was talking about. _Well, they were probably good parents_ , he thought again.

A whine came from Kidd pulled Junkrat out his thoughts. The kid had his mouth wide open at the Junker and he pawed at his peg leg.

Out of habit, Junkrat turned away and glared at the child. He didn’t want to share his food, he found it fair and square. Moments passed and Junkrat calmed down, the kid was his responsibility. He had to share his food now, he wasn’t alone anymore. With another sigh, he stuffed a spoonful of beans in the kid’s agape mouth. Kidd gave him a smile as he chewed slowly.

Lights in the ceiling flickered then came on. Yellow light illuminated the whole living room area. Junkrat looked around with caution, yet Kidd seemed more calm and collected than the older man. A door creaked open and Vega stepped out from the darkness of the floor beneath the main room.

“Didn’t think this old place had a workin’ generator,” the doctor commented and leaned her arms over the back of one the chairs. A smile spread wide across her chubby face, “You gotta see what I found, Rat Man.” She appeared excited though her body posture said otherwise.

“Found some loot?” Junkrat asked between bites, spitting chewed up beans everywhere.

“Even better than any loot you could find!”

Now that got his attention. Junkrat almost dropped the half empty can and the spoon fell out of his slacked jaw, clinking against the floor. Was she being serious? Something better than loot? Loot repeated at a constant rate in his head. He set the can down on a side table and followed Vega to the basement.

“I’ll be back in a tick, pup. Sit and stay here.” He ordered and Kidd barked as adults descended.

The steps were steep and creaked under both Vega and Junkrat’s weight as they entered the bowels of the house. It was cool, damp, smelt of dirt, and dimly lit up from the light swinging above their heads. Junkrat heard the old generator rumbling before he saw it when he stepped down from the last step. It was set up in the back corner of the basement. The smell of petrol could barely break through the scent of dirt and…something else in the air. There were tables all around the basement, all had chemistry equipment or an outdated computer on it. Unidentifiable chemicals lined metal shelves bolted to the concrete walls. Junkrat found the chemicals possibly useful in some way but nothing else caught his eye.

 “Oi, where’s the loot at?” Junkrat whined, kicking at the dirt floor. He hoped the doc wasn’t pulling his leg. Well, his good leg that is.

“Maybe if you wait a damn second, I’ll show you,” Vega snapped and went to the back of the basement. Before him and the doctor was a metal door, blocked off by many rusty chains. Bullets hole littered concrete wall around the chain which Vega pulled them off with ease. She lifted the door heavy metal handle and pushed open the door with all her might. The door, slowly but surely, started to slide to the left on squeaky wheels.

Vines and vivid green leaves covered every inch in the entire hidden room. It was starting to make sense why the basement was unusual damp. The room smelled…fresh, Junkrat thought. Yeah, that was the word, fresh. He hadn’t seen this much green, or life in one area forever. The room was washed in a cyan colored light from thermal lamps on the tables and the ceiling. The air here burned his lungs unlike the air above, stinging with each breath. His body had grown so much to the tainted, irradiated air outside.

“Have you see somethin’ so beautiful in yer life?” asked Vega, her voice quavering a little.

“This the loot you were talkin’ about?” Junkrat asked, now disappointed. “I was expectin’ money or treasure…” Plant were good too, he guessed. Plants meant food.

The leaves were smooth to the touch when Junkrat brushed his hand over top of them on the wall next to him. So full of life in a world where everything is dead. Fruit hung off the vines, apple sized black fruit in the shape of a pear. Nothing stopped Junkrat from plucking one of these fruit off their vine and digging his teeth into the tough skin. The taste was interesting. A mixture of and apple, pear, and a grape, a very sweet combination of the three.

Vega snatched the fruit out of Junkrat’s hand. “Don’t you know how to not eat everything you set yer eyes on?” she scolded. “You could kill yerself like that.”

“We’ll find out when I start barfin’ up my insides!” said Junkrat, smiling smugly then he erupted in laughter.

Vega rolled her eyes at the response and looked at the fruit. “You said this place was the pipsqueak’s old abode, right? Then his parents were doin’ some experimentin’ down here.” The doctor started pacing around the room. She even took a bite out the fruit and stared at it for a second. “Studyin’ plants. Botanists, no doubt about it. What were they doin’ though…?”

Kidd’s frightened barking from up above alerted both of the adults. Something was going on upstairs, Junkrat wanted nothing to happen to the kid in any way. He hustled back up the stairs, kicked opened the basement door, and rushed out ready to kick ass. Kidd was nowhere to be seen in the living room. The screen door wide open, hitting against the house in the breeze.

 Kidd’s barking was the loudest outside, a step onto the porch and his blood went cold instantly. Kidd was growing, bouncing about around a giant of a man who stood unmoving by his motorcycle. The blackened eyes of the mask the man wore just watched Kidd in silence. His head tilted up to Junkrat, now staring at him with those empty eyes.

Junkrat couldn’t move or believe who he was looking at, he knew who this man was. The Beast of the Wastes, The Bounty Hunter of the Outback, the large man went by many, many names. But the one name he overheard from travelling merchants and bar patrons sharing tall tales was –

“Mako?”

What? No, that wasn’t it. Junkrat turned his head towards the voice.

Vega stood in the main door way behind him, her body stiff like a board and her hands clasped over her mouth. “Mako…” she whispered, tears formed at the corner of her eyes. She began to bounce excitedly on her feet and clapped her hands. “Mako!” Doctor Vega shouted, ran off the porch, and into the man’s massive arms.

He cackled, muffled by his mask, as he set her down on her feet and ruffled her hair a bit.

Junkrat was completely dumbfounded. Vega was standing right next to death, how she could she be so happy and comfortable around him? What the hell was going on?


	7. The Revitalize Project

What was going on? What the _hell_ was going on? What was he even looking at?

Junkrat blinked once, twice, then three times.

Vega, Kidd, and Roadhog.

 He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His body wouldn’t move. His hands gripped on to the wooden railing and a shaky breath passed through his teeth.

The Doc, the kid, and Roadhog.

Junkrat, in a way, was scared. Scared for Vega and Kidd. The titan of a Junker could crush them in one of his meaty fist. If anything happened to them…They were the only people that gave a shit about him. His legs swung over the railing and he landed firmly on the ground. Junkrat stomped towards the group, ready for confrontation. When he came close, Kidd stopped his barking and ran behind the lanky man’s legs. The kid resorted to growling than barking and stayed low to the ground, preparing to pounce when needed.

“Rat Man! There you are!” Doctor Vega said, linking arms with the larger man. “I got someone you should meet! This is –”

“I know who the hell he is,” Junkrat interrupted. “I want to know why he’s here. How much did those drongos pay you to find me, huh?!”

Vega pulled Junkrat in close by the leather harness, their noses touching and her eyes set ablaze. She whispered, “You got one more time to cut across me again, so help me God…” then pushed him away with a smile on her face. She was a frightening force when angry..

Roadhog laughed which made Junkrat scowl. How dare he laugh at him.

“Like I was sayin’,” Vega started again. “This is Roadhog, a good ol’ friend of mine.”

“I ain’t that old,” were the first words Roadhog said.

Friend? Junkrat rolled his eyes and laughed to himself. The Beast of the Wastes did not have any friends. The man was a complete loner. He had neither friends nor enemies, all of them were six feet under. But there he was, laughing it up with the doctor like he didn’t have dozens upon dozens of kills under his belt. Junkrat wanted answers to the many questions now swimming in his head.

“Doc, wanna tell me why yer best buds with the most dangerous man in the Outback?” was the first question Junkrat managed to ask.

Vega gave Roadhog’s forearm a few firm pats and grinned. “He’s a childhood friend. Someone’s gotta dig out all that shrapnel from his body. This guy is a metal magnet, I swear.”

Roadhog snorted in a reply.

“Aww, don’t deny it, Mako.” Said Vega, teasing. “Yer gas cans can only get you so far, y’know. I got those metal pieces out yer face, didn’t I?”

His response was a short grunt and shifting his weight in his steel toed boots. Was that a hint of embarrassment in the large man? Junkrat was unable to tell by the gas mask. All he had to work with was body language. He was calling bullshit on the doctor’s claims of being ‘childhood friends’. There was something more to their relationship. Something those two were hiding from him.

Vega released Roadhog from her grip. “What brings you here to this house? How did you know I was here?” she asked.

“I didn’t.” His reply was a monotonous rumble in his gut. “Halfway house.”

“Halfway house…” Vega repeated, now deep in thought. “That explains why the place isn’t completely gutted of things. Other Junkers woulda just burned the whole damn house down.” She motioned towards Kidd, “This is the pipsqueak’s old home.”

Roadhog looked over at Kidd and the child hid his face behind Junkrat’s leg. “I know,” he said.

“How do you know?” Junkrat blurted out loud. “You don’t know shit about my kid!” My kid, did he just say that? Yeah, he did and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Kidd was his now, all the way until either of them croaked.

“Seen him before,” said Roadhog. “Scared off the Junkers livin’ here.”

Junkrat’s eyes widened. His mind attached itself to the larger man’s statement. Those drongos were still alive out there, taking away other kids’ parents, still killing. It made his blood boil. Kidd had a perfect life and those Junkers took it away from him. He wanted them to pay. Pay with their blood spattered on the dirt and their bodies feasted on by dingoes. No, payback was too little of a word for what Junkrat wanted to do. Then an idea came to mind, another crazy idea. He did need the firepower and the location of these Junkers if he wanted to wipe them off the face of the Earth.

“Oi, Pig Face!” shouted Junkrat.

“Don’t call me that…” Roadhog warned.

Junkrat continued, “Pig Face, I got a deal for you. One you’ll never pass up!”

Vega furrowed her brows. “What are you plannin’, Rat Man?”

“I’m listenin’,” said Roadhog, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m a wanted man, right? Everyone wants a piece of ol’ Junkrat. I need a bit of, how should I say it, protection and firepower. A group of piss poor Junkers hurt a…” He looked down at Kidd then back at Roadhog. “Friend of mine and I want them gone for good. Can’t do it alone. I’ll even split my treasure with you fifty-fifty.”

“You can’t be serious…” Vega muttered in shock.

Roadhog was silent for a full minute. Junkrat knew the man had few words for everything but his silence was agonizing. The younger man started to twitch and mess with his fingers, awaiting for an answer.

“Yer lookin’ for the Junkers that were here before, aren’t you?” Vega guessed. “Yer talkin’ about the kid’s parents and gettin’ revenge.”

Junkrat smiled, “Yer right on the money, doc. Plus,” he picked up Kidd and let the child crawl up on his shoulders. “One less gang means more kids don’t lose their parents.”

“That’s oddly noble of you, Rat Man.”

The Junker shrugged. Not really noble, just…personal. His memory of his own parents was fuzzy at best but Kidd still had his memory. The radiation hadn’t fried the poor kid’s brain yet. Junkrat couldn’t, wouldn’t, let those Junkers get away with their crimes. Parents meant a lot to him, though he dared not to say those feelings aloud. If only he could remember his own parents…

“I’m in.”

Wait, what? Junkrat blinked, stupefied. Was it that easy to recruit the big guy? “Really? No catch or anything?” he asked.

“If you want someone dead, Hog’s yer man!” Vega answered like a proud mother and nudged the man’s belly with her elbow. “I’m in too. This will be fun. Just like old times, eh Mako?”

“Just like old times,” Roadhog repeated.

Junkrat’s eyes narrowed. They were certainly hiding something from him. He needed to get to the bottom of it soon. He hated being in the dark.

Vega wrapped her arms around Junkrat and Roadhog’s arms and she dragged them towards the house. “So, which Junker gang we’re takin’ on? Iggy’s? Desmond’s?” The doctor’s excitement was an unusual sight to Junkrat. She was never giddy to kill someone. She knew all the gangs around the Wastes; they paid good dollars for a talented doctor to patch them up.

“Maize’s Pack,” The masked man mumbled and the stairs bowed a bit underneath his weight as he stepped onto them. Junkrat expected the stairs and porch to collapse but it held together.

“Oh, one of the more dangerous Junker gangs!” Vega commented. “Ruthless bunch, they are. They kill first and ask questions never.”

Kidd’s fingernails and toes dug into Junkrat’s shoulders as the name of the gang. The kid whined in his ear like a scared animal.

“Don’t worry, lil mutt,” Junkrat reassured the child with a scratch behind the ear. “We won’t let those drongos get away.”

 

********************

Kidd’s old room became Junkrat’s new workshop when they went back into the confines of the house. It was an average sized room with a child’s bed and dusty wood toy box. There was plenty of room to work with on the floor. This house had all the tools and scraps he needed. The kid sat on the bed, watching him quietly, just like when he first met the little mutt.

                Junkrat knew well how to make prosthetic limbs. Hell, he made his own limbs out nothing. He never built something as flexible as the one he wanted Kidd to have. From all the plans he drew up, he dubbed the prosthetic the ‘Kangaroo Leg’. It was to be both sturdy and mobile for movement. Junkrat used a slender piece of sheet metal for the base of the leg and rounded off the sharp edges. An old bungee cord pulled through holes he drilled into the metal acted like the limb’s tendon. The top of the prosthetic was made out of an old tire he found in the backyard. The kid would be running around so the leg had be me comfortable for long periods of time.

After wrapping up the kid’s nub in a bandage, Junkrat attached the Kangaroo Leg snugly. “Alrighty,” said the man, giving Kidd’s leg a pat. “Give it a spin, kid.”

Kidd looked at the new prosthetic and slid off the bed to stand up on his feet. His legs wobbled and shook like a newborn deer. He took several shaky, uncertain steps forward before dropping to his hands and walking in circles for a moment. Kidd kicked out his new leg and bounced up and down on it. A smile stretched across his face and he jumped up in Junkrat’s arms. His backside wagged furiously as he licked the Junker’s dirty face.

“Alright, alright!” chuckled Junkrat and he shoved Kidd away playfully. “Keep yer tongue to yerself, you mutt. Can’t have you limpin’ around the whole time.” Though he ‘fixed’ his mistake and gave Kidd a new leg, the guilt still chewed at the corners of his mind. It should had never have happened. He caused the kid pain and yet, the kid liked him. Why? Junkrat didn’t understand still.

“Look at you, pipsqueak!” Doctor Vega’s voice boomed loud enough to shake the whole room. She was in the doorway, holding a cardboard in her arms now looking down at Kidd. “Got yerself a spiffy new leg, huh? How’s it warmin’ up to you?”

Kidd ran up to Vega, kicking out his prosthetic awkwardly with each step. “Uh!” he grunted, hopping about. “Uh uh!”

Vega shifted the box into one of her arms and gave the child a pat on his head. “I see, I see.” She said and nodded, as if she understand the kid’s every word.

“It ain’t pretty,” said Junkrat, standing up. “But it does its job, right?”

“Yer overthinkin’ again, Rat Man.” Vega said. “I can tell it in yer voice. You can’t hide yer feelings from me. I am a doctor.”

Junkrat snorted at her comments and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. She was going it again, trying to pick apart his brain and read his feelings. He hated it. He wasn’t some mental patient. He was fine with bottling up his feelings until he was blue in the face. It was best to shift the conversation in another direction away from him. Junkrat nodded his head towards the box in the doctor’s hand. “Whatcha got there?”

Vega gave the box a smack. “It’s the old computer from downstairs.” She replied. “I wanna know why a group of Junkers would go after a pair of botanists. This thing may be my answer. Gonna set it up in the living room. Wanna join me?”

He was ready to decline her offer but he hadn’t forgotten the questions he wanted to ask her. And she was by herself this time. He could talk to her more freely than with the big guy hovering around her. Where was he anyway? When he followed the doctor, he saw the big guy outside, tinkering with his bike as he had his back to the house.

“What’s the story between you and Pig Face, doc?”

“Hmm?” Vega said, heaving the computer out of the box and setting it on the table. “I thought I told you that we’re just childhood friends.” The doctor began to plug in cords from the computer to the outlet in the wall nearby. She knelt down and wiped off the grime from the touchscreen with her already dirty white shirt.

“Yer hidin’ somethin’, I know it.” Junkrat prodded, watching her work from over her shoulder but not really paying attention to what was going on. “Come on, doc. Yer always pokin’ at me to share my secrets. It’s yer turn now.”

Vega sighed and started typing at the keyboard connected to the computer’s monitor. Its dark blue screen and light blue text reflected off her face. “Fine, fine,” she grumbled. “Knowin’ you, you’ll just keep buggin’ me for an answer. First, that fruit we ate is completely safe from a file on here. Genetically grown edible food. Interesting…”

She blinked slowly, still focusing on the computer in front of her. “I wasn’t lyin’ about me and Mako bein’ childhood friends. Friends since we were babies.” There was a pause, her lips parted into a tiny smile. “No one could separate us.” Then she frowned immediately, “When we were older, we started datin’ but it didn’t last long. We bickered and fought, even used our fists to do our talkin’ sometimes. Our opinions always got the better of us.”

The thought of someone as small as the doctor duking it out with someone as big as Roadhog was unbelievable.

Vega lowered her voice, small and deep in tone. “Then all hell broke loose. People died all around us. So much sufferin’. Me and Mako stayed together back then, we had to when the world was pretty much endin’. Forced to become Junkers for some sense of togetherness. I myself became a medic due to my skills with medicine. Dealt with a lot of injuries out there, not just Mako’s. Missing limbs, organs outside of bodies, burns…Wait a minute…”

Doctor Vega’s voice trailed off, her eyes narrowed at the screen, and her fingers tapped the keys quickly. Her eyes then scanned the screen several times and she mumbled to herself, “What the hell is the ‘Revitalize Project’?

“’Ey pipsqueak,” Vega asked, turning away from the computer and towards Kidd. “You know about this ‘Revitalize Project’ yer parents have locked up on this here computer?”

Kidd gave her a quiet tilt of his head.

She shook her head, “I didn’t think so. That’s fine. I’ll figure it out eventually but for now, storytime is over. Gotta unlock these files somehow. I’m a doctor, not a hacker.” She whispered to herself while she grabbed from her flask.

He wasn’t getting any more answers out of the doctor right now. Might as well get back to work.

*********************

 

“We’re gonna show those Junkers who’s boss! Right, kid?” Junkrat boasted as he shoved tore pieces of cloths in the bottles of unmarked chemicals he gathered from off the shelves. He and Kidd retreated to the dark depths of the basement to make weapons, away from natural light. Junkrat was in his element here.

“Uh!” Kidd replied, collecting sacks of fertilizer from around the room and dumping them beside Junkrat.

The kid was extremely loyal to him, did everything and anything he was told. Was it from being around those dogs for years? It didn’t matter to Junkrat but it was an interesting thought. With Kidd’s assistance, he made explosives and cocktails faster than before. Kidd was a good helper. Every pat on the hand he gave the boy, Kidd beamed like he won the greatest prize in the world. The sight made Junkrat’s stomach twist in knots and his heart swell and ache.

The basement door was kicked open suddenly. It slammed up against the wall and yellow light rushed in to eat at the darkness below. Junkrat hissed at the blinding light and shadow standing at the top of the stairs.

“Ho-holy shit Rat Man,” he heard Doctor Vega drunkenly hiccup and he watched her stumble down the stairs. “You-you’ll never guess what I fuckin’ found on that c-computer.” The smell of hard liquor radiated off her like an aura.

That was quicker than he thought. How much time had passed?

Vega grabbed Junkrat by the arm and dragged him up the stairs with her. He flailed and protested but the doctor’s grip was stronger that he was. She practically carried him upstairs and dropped him in a chair like some used laundry. Roadhog occupied the couch before him in silence, seemingly staring at him again with his hands clasped together over his stomach. His heavy breathing burrowed deep into the young’s Junker’s skull. Kidd kept himself close to Junkrat’s feet.

“I thought you said you ain’t a hacker, doc.” Junkrat pointed out, adjusting himself in the seat.

Vega smiled a lazy, half effort grin, “I-I can do many things with a belly full of booze! Now,” She smacked the top of the computer. “Found out what this project is and why that bitch ass Maize’s Pack hit up this family in part-particular.”

“’Cuz they’re pretty much animals?” answered Junkrat. He heard stories about Maize’s Pack before. How they leave nothing behind when they got through an area. No one has had firsthand stories of even meeting the Pack. They were all dead or missing.

Roadhog chimed in between deep breaths, “They only attack if it means something from them in the end. Random attacks are a waste.”

“Right you are, Hoggy! This family seems to have nothing of value here,” She looked over at Kidd and said, “No offence, pipsqueak. But,” the doctor burped then continued, “That’s where this ‘Revitalize Project’ comes in.”

“Well, spit it out!” Junkrat egged on. “I hate waitin’!”

 Vega took a seat. “The pipsqueak’s parents were on to something, some-something big. Big enough for some fancy-pansy coastal people to even look in the direction of the Wastes.” The glassy look in Vega’s eyes disappeared and she crossed her legs over another. She knew how to sober up quick. “A way to restore the Wastes. For plants to overtake the hot, irradiated land.”

Roadhog only shifted his weight in his seat while Junkrat held his jaw slack and his mouth slightly open. It sounded like a complete, utter fantasy the doctor was talking about. Turning the Wastes into an oasis, it couldn’t happen, right? It had been decades of radiation and now someone wanted to do something about it? A bunch of bullshit, Junkrat thought. Those botanists were, had to be, lying through their teeth about this project.

“I can see it in yer face that you don’t believe the things I’m sayin’, Rat Man.” Said Vega. “I didn’t believe it until I read the file a few times. You saw that side room in the basement and all that strange fruit. What if that was our world now?”

Junkrat hadn’t thought of it that way. What would happen?

“And some fancy coastie found out about the project and wanted to buy it out, which the pipsqueak’s parents declined.” The doctor scoffed. “Coasties, always flashin’ their money around. I guess you boys can figure out what happened next…”

Yeah, Junkrat could piece together the end result of that deal. It wasn’t uncommon for people living on the coast hiring Junkers to do their dirty work. Removes blame from the buyer and makes it look like a usual gang attack. Unless you had clues pointing towards the real culprit like a bread crumb trail. Looks like he wasn’t just taking out some Junkers now. He will surely make all of them would pay for the kid’s pain.


	8. Memory

Night came quick. It was a bright night with the full moon high in the clouded, smog filled sky. Junkrat couldn’t get to sleep this time, mind racing too much and limbs wouldn’t stop aching. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stayed up the whole night before. He was by his lonesome again. The kid was fast asleep in his bed across the room from him and the others? He wasn’t sure what they were up to. They said what they were going to do but Junkrat long forgotten what it was. Probably wasn’t important anyway. Didn’t feel like poking around and asking to find out again.

The dancing flame of a petrol lantern on the floor beside him and his work kept his mind off the phantom pains as best it could. His focus was dwindling though, exhaustion made his aches and pains worse. Temptation wanted, begged, Junkrat to stab the screwdriver he had in hand into the scarred end of his right leg. Stab his stupid leg repeatedly until it bled all over like a damn fountain. No, he wouldn’t. The screwdriver fell out of his slack hand to the floor with a clatter and Junkrat began to bounce his good leg, irritated as hell. He wished he could do something, anything, about the pain.

A whimper passed through his lips, a pathetic noise he didn’t want to make, and he immediately covered his mouth. Then there was a whine, something Junkrat did not make on his own.

It was Kidd.

His blue eyes sparkled in both the white moonlight and the orange flame as he looked at Junkrat. He whined again and lifted his head off the pillow, worried. “Rat?” Kidd said, sleep heavy in voice and he rubbed his eye.

“It’s nothin’, kid,” Junkrat muttered. “Go back to sleep.”

Kidd ignored the older man, crawled out of bed, and he hopped over to Junkrat.

“’M fine, I swear,” Junkrat tried to reassure the child but he knew the kid wasn’t buying it. The raised eyebrow was a dead giveaway.

Instead of climbing all over him like usual, Kidd limped over to the toybox beneath the window sill. The box’s lid squeaked as Kidd opened it and he leaned inside to dig around through it. Junkrat watched in confusion as Kidd came back with a palm sized silver box in his hands. It was untouched by rust and dust like most of the items in the box. A tiny handle protruded from the box’s right side.

Junkrat asked, curious, “Whatcha got there, kid?”

“Uh,” Kidd replied, opened up the older man’s hand, and gently placed the box in it. Kidd pointed at the box, “Play.”

“Play?” The older Junker parroted, now looking at the box given to him. He had a hunch what Kidd wanted from him. Junkrat took the little handle between his index finger and thumb and turned it clockwise four times.

The silver box let out a few clicks then it began to play the sweetest yet melancholic tune Junkrat had ever heard. It was strangely relaxing to hear as the music filled his ears. Kidd rocked his body side to side in time with the music. A small smile appeared on the child’s face as the tune when on. Junkrat kept holding onto the box, mesmerized by the song now. His eyes shut and he breathing went along with the song’s tempo. It made him recall all the good memories he still had left in his mind. The time he didn’t feel so paranoid, when he went to bed with a full stomach, and that time he had himself a pet beetle. He wished to go back to those simpler days.

Then he opened his eyes.

Sunlight shined down on Junkrat from the dirty window, warm rays heated his chilled skin. He could remember falling asleep but there was the morning, knocking on his front door. At least his phantom pains had faded away in that time. The lantern’s flame was snuffed and the music box he once held in his hands was missing but the music still ringed in his ears.

Kidd was also missing, everyone had to be up and probably waiting for him now. It was usually the other way around with Junkrat waiting instead. He reattached his leg, eased himself off of the floor, and stretched. What was he supposed to do today? Then the rage hit him like a ton of bricks. Maize and her gang, Junkrat would beat the answers out of them if he had to. He needed the name of that suit, no matter the cost.

“Rat?” Kidd called out to the Junker as he entered the living room. The kid hobbled over to Junkrat and entwined his fingers with the older man’s. “Rat,” He rested his cheek on the back of Junkrat’s gloved hand.

“Where’s the lot of them?” Junkrat asked, looking around the room. Duffle bags full of his explosive were stacks by the door but the computer the doctor had fiddled with was missing too.

“Uh!” Kidd answered and pointed his finger towards an area outside the house.

Junkrat followed the child’s finger to Vega’s truck out in front of the house. The truck’s hood was up, Roadhog had his face and hands deep in the vehicle’s innards while the doctor stood off to the side nearby. He left Kidd inside and approached the two. Doctor Vega’s conversation tapered off when he got near. Either she was talking about something she didn’t want him to hear or the big guy wasn’t much for the conversation.

She grinned up at Junkrat, “Finally awake, Rat Man?” Vega asked. “Got the perfect plan to get you into the Pack’s camp.”

“You ain’t smugglin’ me in a bag again, doc.” Junkrat warned. He did not want to get stuffed in an itchy sack like before.

She shook her head and laughed, “No, no. Not this time. Doin’ the same plan over and over again gets stale. Gotta keep everyone on their toes. So I came up with the idea of sellin’ you off to the Pack. Easy money and petrol for me, easy for you to get into their camp.”

“Like a blue ribbon pot belly pig, huh?” he said and side-eyed the big guy.

 Roadhog grunted at the comment.

“When night falls, the pipsqueak will sneak in and untie you. I’ll have to lil fella smuggle in yer bombs too.”

“And that’s when the fireworks start!” said Junkrat. “We rig up their trucks, buildin’s, anythin’ of value to them then _KABOOM_! Their camp will get turned in to a smokin’ scrap heap!” He began to tremble at the thought of the sheer mayhem he was going to create.

“Well,” Vega, calmer than the man in front of her, said. “I’m glad you’re excited about this. You’re gonna be in some…tighter than usual…spots in there.”

Immediately, Junkrat shifted from his thoughts of destruction to the doctor’s comment. Yeah, he almost forgotten he was a wanted man across the whole country. They would try to beat the information about his treasure out of him, no doubt about it. Junkrat was a tough guy, he could handle anything those drongos threw at him.

“Oh, yeah that…” His voice trailed off and he rubbed the back of his neck then reassured the doctor, “Don’t worry, doc. I’ll be fine. I’ve been though worse, y’know.”

 Vega eyed him suspiciously and said, “I’m not just worry about you. We’re tossin’ the kid in the lion’s den. How you know that he’ll come outta there fine? I explained everythin’ very slowly to the pipsqueak. How everythin’ will go done, yeah? The kid was eager to help you, Rat Man. The pipsqueak’s loyalty to you goes to level of uncanny valley. I made it clear that we’re goin’ after bad people and we might get hurt. And you know what the kid did?” The doctor paused for a moment then continued, “The kid smiled up at me and said ‘Rat’, and went back to haulin’ shit from the basement.”

“What can I say? The kid likes me.”

His statement made the doctor scowl and she entered his personal space, inches away from his chest. “It’s more than ‘like’, Jamison. It’s a matter of life and death. This kid would die for you and doesn’t give a shit about his own life. He’ll end up takin’ a bullet for you. If you let this kid get hurt, I swear…” After that, the doctor seemed to be in a sour mood and she rested her elbows back on the truck. “Just start loadin’ yer shit in the back.”

Junkrat dismissed Vega’s hostile worrying and went back inside the house. She was over exaggerating as usual, same old Doctor Vega. Kidd sat by the duffle bags, awaiting for his return inside like an obedient dog. Though he was sure that the kid knew what was in the bags, the kid seemed perfectly fine being close to the same thing that took his leg.

“Come on, you lil mutt,” Junkrat said, picking up a bag in his arms. “Let’s get workin’ again.” He wanted to test something out on Kidd, a simple experiment that wouldn’t take too much of his time. Loyalty, the doctor’s words began to settle in his mind. It couldn’t be true. The kid was just friendly.

In his experiment, he ordered Kidd to carry all the bags of explosives to the truck by himself. Probably not the safest test but it what Junkrat had to work with. The kid did what he was told with the biggest grin on his face. He did not falter or slow down on his job. It was…eerie how Kidd listened to his orders, almost like a real dog or a servant. When he said sit, Kidd sat down. When he said stand, Kidd stood tall and proud. All done with a smile on his face. A damn, happy smile.

“Stop actin’ like that!” Junkrat shouted, louder than he wanted to raise his voice.

Kidd flinched, lowering his body to the ground. The fear in those blue eyes was the same exact fear Junkrat saw when he first met the kid.

Junkrat ran his metal hand his hair several times. Fingers caught in knots and tangles as he tried to backpedal and find the right words. “Just…” he grunted in frustration at himself then he dropped his arms to his sides. “Just stop actin’ like that, okay? You ain’t my slave.”

Fear turned to confusion. Kidd whined and tilted his head to the side.

 _‘Of course you wouldn’t get it…’_ Junkrat thought and ran his hand through his hair again. How could he dumb down his words to the point the kid could understand? He inhaled, exhaled, and then spoke up once more. “You shouldn’t be runnin’ around, followin’ commands. People will just walk all over you like that! They’ll use yer friendliness against you and make you do things…”

Another fuzzy memory came to mind. “Make you do things…” he repeated, his eyed vacantly stared ahead of him but not focusing on anything. “ _Things_.” The word tumbled out of his mouth, the memory sharpened and became clearer. It was something he wished the radiation would erase like all the other memories. It was a dark and cold thought, a place Junkrat never wanted to be in. His hands trembled but he squeezed them tight into fists. He couldn’t lose his composure in front of the kid. Those feelings would be dealt with in a later time.

“W-what I’m sayin’ is,” Junkrat couldn’t hide the sudden crack in his voice though. “Don’t be a servant and don’t be someone’s doormat. Stand up for yerself, say no! Yell, scream, don’t just take it. Fight back!”

Silence and staring, the kid’s favorite things to do. Junkrat only hoped his words spoke to the in some way.

“Uh!” Kidd cheered, hopping around. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Junkrat smiled. Yeah, he was sure the kid got the idea. Kidd had a good head on his shoulders. He picked Kidd up and the child immediately sat on his broad shoulders. “We got a long night ahead of us, kid.” Said Junkrat. “A long, long night.”


	9. Maize and The Pack

It had to take them a few days but those two dogs that saved his skin outside of Haven made their way to the abandoned house. Junkrat wasn’t expecting the mutts to find their location as quickly as they did. Their bodies lacked any kind of bullet wounds or injury from their little diversion. Their leathery, bony tails wagged aggressively at the sight of familiar faces and blackened lips pulled back into goofy smiles. He had to say, he did missed those dogs and their dumb faces. They helped with moral and showed that they were smarter than they looked. Kidd was ecstatic when he found out the dogs had returned. They were like family to the kid but there wasn’t much time for reunion. It was time to finally confront Maize’s Pack.

The back of Vega’s truck was much comfortable of a ride while not trapped in a bag and sliding around. Junkrat, along with his bags of explosives and the dogs, sat in the back as Kidd sat in the passenger’s seat again. Things still bounced and shifted as the truck drove over the uneven road, making it a less than pleasant ride.

Evening was fast approaching, the empty wastelands passed by in a hypnotic mix of browns and oranges. Junkrat felt his eyes get heavy and it grew difficult to stay awake. His head started to dip until a thunderous pound to the side of the truck chased away all his tiredness like frightened prey. Junkrat jumped at the sound and looked around franticly. It was Roadhog on his motorcycle, riding close by to the truck. He stared at Junkrat of a moment then revved his engine and pulled forward ahead. He was the doctor’s escort, why did it matter to him if he fell asleep? Who knows why he wanted him awake.

An hour went by and nightfall wrapped the countryside in its dark embrace. The truck slowed until it came to a complete stop. The dogs lifted their head in curiosity and so did Junkrat. Engines went silent and headlights dimmed. He stood up on the truck bed and peeked over the top of the vehicle’s roof. Before him was another settlement but nothing like a settlement he encountered in the past.

The stench of death waft in the hot breeze that blew against his face. Severed heads mounted on metal pikes decorated the grounds, along with rusty animal cages. Cheaply constructed buildings made out of metal and wood stacked upon another encircled a massive bonfire in the middle of the settlement. Flood lights, bright and white, shined down on the camp. Trucks, many of different sizes and models, guarded the outside of the settlement like silent beasts. Junkrat could see Junkers begin to gather around the bonfire when they came.

Metal creaked behind him and a large hand grabbed him tight by the throat. Junkrat, caught off guard, choked out a pathetic squeak and clawed at the fingers holding him. He was dragged across the truck bed and thrown right to the dirt. Gasping for air, Junkrat tried to get up but a hand pressed firm on his back, preventing movement.

“Play along,” Roadhog’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Can’t let them suspect us.”

Junkrat couldn’t give the large man a witty comeback before he was flipped over and socked right in the nose.

“Rat!” He heard Kidd exclaim from inside the truck.

A lot was going through his mind as Roadhog effortlessly lifted him up by the arm. Mostly the blinding pain in his face, how much of a bitch he was bleeding all over the place, and hoping Kidd wouldn’t blow everyone’s cover. He wasn’t sure which one to focus on the most at the period of time.

“Oi, not so tight!” Junkrat complained as Roadhog bound his arms behind his back with rope. “Yer dealin' with high class goods here!” The rope dug into his wrist when he struggled against his bindings. Rope burn was soon to follow.

Roadhog didn’t give him a response like he wanted to and hauled the tied up man over his left shoulder. Junkrat heard the truck door’s slam shut and Vega emerged in his line of sight. Her amber eyes glanced around Roadhog a few times and then she focused her attention on him.

“Mako didn’t mess up yer mug too much, did he?” Vega asked.

Junkrat replied matter-of-factly, “Told you, doc. I’ve been through worse. Plus, thought you said my mug is ugly.”

Vega gave the side of his face a couple of pats. “Don’t want that mug getting’ too messed up.” She said. “I’ve grown attached to yer stupid looks.”

“Touchin’,” he remarked then shifted his attention to another topic. “How’s the kid? Probably stir crazy from me gettin’ decked.”

The doctor nodded, “Yeah but I managed to calm him down and get him hidin’ again.”

“You two done?” asked Roadhog. “We got company…”

Vega looked around him again and said, “Fake it ‘till you make it, Rat Man,” then left his sight.

Junkrat bounced up and down as Roadhog walked further away from the truck. There was mumbling in front of him but he couldn’t recognize who was talking. He collided hard with the ground and slid across the dirt until he came to a stop in between the two parties. Junkrat scrambled to get up on his knees, it proved difficult without the use of arms. Several feet in front of him was Maize’s Pack and all their unbridled glory. It was only about eight of them before him, a mere fraction of their total numbers. They all wore road leathers, welded metal masks over their faces, and scrap metal seemingly attached to the most of their bodies. Junkrat tried his best not to burst out into laughter. They looked like ridiculous metal people! How could anyone be scared by a gang that looked like that?

“Look what the dingoes dragged in,” The person leading the small group said with a chuckle. Though the voice was muffled underneath a wolf like mask, it was obvious that the voice belonged to a woman. She raised her hands to her face and pulled off her mask. Her face was decorated in chemical burns and she lacked a normal nose, only two holes for breathing. Brown hair covered her head in patches but somehow she had it tied back in a braid. She probably was once beautiful, before she dunked her head in a barrel of acid.

“Is that it?” “He doesn’t look like much…” “You sure this is the right guy?” Junkrat overheard the woman’s lackeys whisper amongst themselves.

“Shut yer damn mouths!” she hissed and the others shrank away. “Of course it is, you idiots. The twiggy rat who’s the talk of the whole damn country.”

“That’s the Great Twiggy Rat to you!” Junkrat piped in.

“Speak only when spoken to!” she shouted. “Yer in my camp now!”

“Now Maize,” Vega stepped in. “Now’s the time for talkin’, not for fightin’.”

Maize nodded her head towards Roadhog’s direction. “Then why’s he here?” she asked. Her lackeys behind her replied with an assortment of ‘yeahs’ and other murmurs.

“He’s just an escort. Now are we gonna do business or not?” Junkrat heard the pitch in the doctor’s voice lower. She was getting serious. “I could always pack up this fucker and go back home, y’know. I’m missin’ my radio stories for this.”

Ouch, she was going with name calling so soon? Junkrat wasn’t expecting her to use that tactic so quickly. He knew she wasn’t being truthful but it still hurt coming out of her mouth.

“Fine, he stays.” Maize growled and folded her arms over her small chest. “What’s yer offer for him? You better not strong arm me, doctor. I’m not some ditzy girl.”

“5000 and 4 cans of petrol.”

“Oh come on!” Junkrat groaned. “I cost at least double that amount! No, triple that!”

“2500 and 2 cans,” Maize countered, “This piece of shit ain’t worth yer price.” Then she glared down at Junkrat. “You have one more time to speak…”

“The boy’s right,” Vega agreed. “He is certainly worth a pretty penny. Who know what he found out there in the Omnium. So, how about 4000 and 3 cans?”

Maize went quiet and her lackeys mumbled to themselves again. She looked at Junkrat for the longer than he liked. He swore her eyes were actually yellow and glowing. She growled and shouted, “Fine, it’s a deal! Fang, Hackle, get the money and petrol for our ‘ _business partner’_.”

“Yes ma’am!” The two mousey characters closest to their leader said. They, as ordered, ran off towards the buildings and disappeared within them. It grew quiet again, the crackling of the firewood behind the Pack was the only sounds in the late evening. The two came back and stood on each side of Maize. One held a suitcase while the other struggled to hold the three cans in his arms.

“Give them to her,” Maize commanded.

“Yes ma’am!” They repeated and walked to Junkrat, meeting Vega and Roadhog in the middle.

The closer they got, he noticed how nice looking the suitcase holding the money was. Black with golden hinges and a leather handle, way too fancy for a Junker gang to own.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” Vega said, taking the suitcase while Roadhog handled the metal canisters of fuel. “Enjoy yer newest piece of property.”

Junkrat watched them turn their backs to him and walk away with their spoils. Brights switched on and engines roared to life once more. The truck and motorcycle made a U-turn and drove away, leaving the camp in the dust as they disappeared into night.

There he was, all by himself again. Just like he was weeks ago, back to the days of wandering the countryside. It had only been minutes since they left and he missed them already. Their presence was somewhat welcoming, they were his friends and allies. Now, he was in the company of people that completely hated his guts. He needed to survive whatever these drongos dished out until the doctor came back. Survive like he always had.

Junkrat turned around to face the Pack and grinned at them. “So what happens now?” he asked. “Gonna beat the shit outta me to get what you want, huh? You won’t be the first to do that, y’know.”

Maize did not say a word to him, only returned the metal mask to her face. She approached the bounded man and blindsided him with a round house kick to the side of his face. The ground welcomed Junkrat’s face and body again. His vision doubled and he could feel the blood begin to pool beneath his skin. The sole of the leader’s dirty boot pressed hard against his head, grinding his face deeper into the dirt.

“What’s the first rule of the camp, Pack?” Maize shouted at the others. “I believe our guest isn’t acquainted with them.”

“Speak only when spoken to!” They recited in a group bellow through masks. Junkrat didn’t hear a single woman’s voice in the bunch.

“That’s right!” She said and dug her heel into his cheek. “And what happens to disobedient trash who can’t follow rules?”

“They get Punishment Time!” The group cheered, howling in delight.

Maize removed her foot from him and ordered, “Now take him to The Rack!”

Junkrat spat out the collection of dirt in his mouth and got back up on his knees. What the hell was ‘The Rack’? The gang swarmed him almost immediately. They weren’t gentle at all when they grabbed for him, scratching and clawing at his skin with excitement. He struggled and thrashed in his captors’ hands but they kept their hold as they dragged him further into the encampment. He passed by cage of irradiated animals the deeper in the camp they went. Dingoes barked and gators hissed at him, banging their bodies against the metal prisons. Then he passed by people in cage but it was only women kept captive by the gang. Their dull colored eyes set on Junkrat as he went by and they came closer to the bars. These women were broken mentally and physically, he had seen the saddened looks on their faces before. Full of despair and no sense of hope, such a depressing sight.

The Rack was much simpler that Junkrat thought it would be. It was just two tall metal poles in the ground parallel to each other. There were ropes tied to them, covered in speckles of blood from previous victims of the device. They pulled him in between the poles and forced him to his feet. The first thing Maize’s grunts did was tear off his prosthetics and threw them away like garbage. Yeah, they were made from scrap lying around but they didn’t have to treat it like so. The Rack wasn’t quite made for someone missing limbs like he did. The Pack was quick to adapt to Junkrat’s disability though. They resorted to tying up in bicep and thigh to The Rack with his wrist and ankle.

All his weight was supported by the rope digging in his skin as his whole body was left stretched and on display for all to stare at. Junkrat lifted his head to look at the group. The gang members had backed away from him and they parted as Maize came over.

She stood in front of him and she held out her hand to her side. A gang member quickly appeared to her side, dropped a chain in her palm, and hurried back to the numbers. The chain jingled as she spun it in circles; quick, small circle beside her.

“No one is allowed to break rules in my camp and you broke Rule One several times,” Maize said and a smile spread across her face; a sinister grin. “What time is it, boys?”

 _“It’ssss Punishment Timeeee!”_ The grunts sang out and threw their fists in the air.

Maize raised her arm in the air and she swung it down with all her might, her chain now a deadly whip. The chain connected with Junkrat’s body, slapping hard diagonally against his torso and returning to its holder. The white hot pain was almost unbearable to handle but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that bitch get noise out of him. He sucked air through his teeth and bit down on his bottom lip. She wouldn’t break him, he would survive.

Junkrat giggled which transformed to full blown laughter. His laughter tapered off, he craned his neck towards the leader, and scowled at her. “Is that the best you got?” His voice was bitter, taunting. “Yer a piss poor hitter, aren’t you?”

Maize’s body went rigid and the grunts erupted in various volumes of gasps. He hit a nerve with the woman. Perfect.

“You cheeky little,” Maize snarled and she whipped the chain across his abdomen. “You are inferior to me, scum! Nothing but a weak man like the rest!” She then moved out of his sight and began a fiery barrage upon his back. “All men and women are beneath me! You are no different!” She shouted each word in time with her whipping. “Know yer place!”

Junkrat flinched with every wave of the assault, but did not let her have what she wanted from him: a cry of pain. The brutal beating lasted seemingly for the longest time, minutes turned to a solid hour of continuous whipping. He heard her growing tired; her swings slowed down and grew lazy. His arms and legs ached from being stretched out for so long. His back was raw, bruised, and bleeding from Maize’s rage, especially his ears. That woman knew how to rant and rave without taking a single breath. Then suddenly, the whipping came to a halt.

“I hope you learned yer lesson,” Maize whispered sweetly in his ear. “Can’t get yer lovely treasure if I killed you. Lovely, lovely treasure…” Feeling her rancid breath on his neck made his skin crawl. She walked back in his view and dropped the bloodied chain in the dirt at his foot. “Ciao, baby. Better start talkin’ when I get back, okay?” And she then disappeared into the crowd of her underlings.

“Maize went easy on you!” “She put the last bastard that broke a rule on a spit roast over a fire!” “She’ll rip you a new one, mate!” The grunts jeered at him and they followed after their leader.

He dipped his head down and Junkrat let out a long, drawn out groan. His body stung like hell, even the light breeze on his back felt like more whipping. He really would need a good patching up when this was all over. Maize was certainly a temperamental bitch.


	10. A Real Slave Revolts

Time inched onward at a snail’s pace to Junkrat as he dangled from the Rack. He tried several times to wiggle himself out of the trap but to no avail. The knots kept him firm in place. Those grunts knew their way around knots and tying up people. Bunch of freaks, he thought then thrashed about against his bindings. Junkrat grunted in complete frustration as kicked and flailed before going lip once more. Being held in one place for over a minute; no, second; was like more akin to torture to Junkrat. So used to freedom that the mere thought of being stuck or trapped brought uneasiness to him. His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing sped up, and he tugged on his ropes, faster and more agitated. He wanted to be free again, not an animal tied down ready for slaughter. Freedom was the only thing Junkrat had.

“Losin’ it already? That quickly? Thought you would hold on ‘til I got back.”

Junkrat’s eyes snapped up towards the voice in front of him. His attempts of escape had come to a stop. He settled back down in the ropes, pushed his anxiety down, and replaced it with smugness. It was Maize again, a fist on her leather clad hip and a smile on her damaged face. Who wanted to see her ugly face over and over again? He wished she would put her damn mask back on. There was another person beside the gang leader, not one of the lesser members but another woman.

The woman, a short haired blonde with peach colored skin, stood at the leader’s side as she held a toolbox in her hand. Rags hung off her body thin frame and she wore a permanent frown on her face. What Junkrat couldn’t get his eyes off was not the woman’s features, but the object locked around her neck. It was a collar made of metal and a solid metal box with a red, glowing light on it. Junkrat blinked, he knew what it was. A bomb collar, a personal go-to for slavers and a waste of explosive materials, he thought. Why blow up one person when you could take out a whole bunch of people or level a building? Many red lights shined from within the slave cages close by. Every single woman was equipped with a collar, all of them walking time bombs.

“Me, losin’ it?” Junkrat asked then shook his head. “Nah, I ain’t losin’ it unlike the loon in front of me who keeps slaves.”

“Oh don’t act so high ‘n mighty like some perfect angel,” Maize said, stepping closer to him. “No man is free of sin and yer no different. Everyone here is a sinner. I embrace my sinners. Give them a greater reason to live.”

“What makes you so damn special?” he questioned. “Why aren’t you caged up and wearin’ a collar like the others? Unless you ain’t a woman…”

Junkrat received a hard slap for his comment. A back handed smack across the cheek, the same one that her kick earlier before. The other woman flinched at the noise and redirected her gaze to the ground at her feet. It stung but he shrugged off the pain with another smug grin. Another nerve, a perfect hit.

“How dare you,” Maize hissed and she grabbed Junkrat’s face. Her nails dug into his cheeks, leaving half-moon indents. “I’m a livin’, breathin’ goddess among trash.”

“You sure about that?” Junkrat retorted. “Coulda fooled me.”

Another slap to the face.

“So disobedient and so rowdy,” she whispered. Her grip tightened on his jaw and she pulled his face closer to hers. “You didn’t learn a thing from yer punishment.” Closer Maize’s face came to Junkrat’s, the same hot air shared between them with each breath they took. Her lips, dry and cracked, lightly brushed against his own. Did this insane woman have the hots for him? Junkrat fought to escape her grasp but it was nearly impossible. Maize was much stronger than she appeared. “Such a fighter,” she breathed on his lips. “Woulda make a great member of The Pack if you weren’t so disobedient.”

Junkrat, powered by pure disgust alone, tore himself out of Maize’s iron grip and bashed his head against the leader’s face. The headbutt wasn’t forceful enough to break her nose or knock some teeth out but it was enough to cause her to stagger back. “Keep yer dirty mitts off me.” Junkrat said.

Maize adjusted the bridge of her nose between her two fingers and sucked on her teeth little. The mischievous glimmer in her eyes and the big grin on her face made Junkrat raise an eyebrow. What was going on in that woman’s twisted mind? What was she planning to do? She turned her back on him, now facing the other woman, mumbling something and fiddling with her hands. Maize faced Junkrat again and sauntered back over to his side. Her gloved fingers wrapped tight around the handles of a pair of pliers and she twirled it in her palm. Its metal surface was dotted with red-brown rust and had dirty fingerprints smeared over the yellow rubber handles.

“Now you just broke Rule Two,” said Maize as she smacked the pliers in her opposite palm. Her grin morphed into a snarl, rotting teeth and greyed gums exposed. “Layin’ yer fuckin’ hands on me.”

“Correction,” Junkrat said. “I put my head on you. Not my hands. Kinda bit of a loophole, if you ask me. Might wanna fix up those dumb rules of yers. You shoulda known by now I’m not the ‘ _followin’ the rules_ ’ type of guy.” He shifted his body a little in the ropes and rolled his neck several times. While the relief in his vertebrae was welcomed, it gave him a painful reminder of the healing wounds trailing down his back. Its initial sting had faded, leaving behind the burning and itching sensation of his body repairing itself.

Maize squeezed the pliers tight and she gritted her teeth together. “You don’t know when to keep yer mouth shut, do you? What’s worse than a disobedient man is a back talkin’, disobedient man who puts his hands on a lady.”

“My fists don’t discriminate,” he replied.

Maize faced the other woman and barked, “You! Hold open his mouth!”

The woman set the open toolbox down in the dirt and approached him with caution. Her hands trembled as she got closer; the fear in her eyes was prominent. She was standing in front of him now, hands pressed firmly to her chest and her gaze fixated on him.

“Hurry up!” snapped Maize as she stomped her foot in annoyance. “Or do I have to do it myself?”

The woman flinched at the leader’s harsh words and her hands outstretched towards Junkrat. Warm fingers shook when they brushed up against his skin. Though she looked like a hobo, they were strangely soft to the touch. Junkrat shrugged off the woman’s timid, weak grasp and turned his head to the side. She was persistent under the threatening stare of her slave master. She dug her fingertips in between his chapped lips, parting them even through his attempts to shake her. Her fingers curled around his teeth and she slowly forced apart his jaws. Saliva coated her digits and dribbled down the corner of his mouth to his chin. As much as Junkrat thrashed and kicked, the woman would not let go. She held on to his teeth and opened up his mouth as wide as his jaws would let her. His words were reduced to frustrated grunts, loud and distressed in his throat.

“God,” Maize sighed, shook her head, and walked up to the two. “Took yer sweet damn time, didn’t you?” She twirled the pliers in her hand, inserted the tool in the man’s mouth, and clamped its metal teeth around the canine tooth on the top row. The palm of her left hand jammed up against his sore nose to anchor herself to his jaw.

“I know how to break a man,” she said, adjusting her grip on the pliers. “You’ll tell me everythin’ I want to know after this. Every single piece of info.”

Junkrat froze, his blood went cold as ice. He grunted in protest, pulling at his ropes only to cause them to tighten.

“What’s that?” Maize said with a faint chuckle. “You don’t want this? Too bad, sweetie. Shoulda thought about that before you put yer filthy hands on me.” Without another word or hesitation, Maize began to tug and twist on the pliers.

She laughed, wild and loud liked a hyena, and she pulled harder and harder. The pain was indescribable, bone being ripped from bone. Junkrat felt hot tears start to pool at the bottom of his eyes. He could only focus on the crazed woman hanging above him. He thrashed about again and grunted louder but it only amplified the searing pain in his jaw. Maize grew on the torture, grinning as she held eye contact with him. There was no humanity in her wide, yellow eyes, just pure animalistic fury. The eye contact did not last long as she tore the tooth straight from its socket in a quick downward motion. Blood poured out of Junkrat’s mouth, trailed down his chin, and dripped to the dirt. He wanted to scream. It was agony, as worse as he lost his leg. He held his tongue though and just let the tears flow down the curvature of his face. Maize and the other woman removed their hands from him and stepped back.

“My, my,” Maize cooed as she raised the blooded tooth up examine it. “What a beaut. You certainly took care of yer teeth. It will go perfect with my collection. Now,” she leaned forward and asked, “Where’s that lovely treasure of yers?”

Junkrat spat at her, a mixture of his blood and spit hitting her directly in the face. “Piss off.” He growled.

Maize wiped away the spit mixture with the back of her hand. “Yer the hardest man I ever had to break.” She grinned then purred, “I love a challenge. Better get used to seein’ my face ‘cause yer not goin’ nowhere.” She passed by the other woman, dug around in the toolbox, and came back with a collar. _A bomb collar_.

Fuck, he wasn’t planning this. A bomb collar threw his plan to the back burner. Junkrat could do nothing as Maize locked the bomb collar in place around his neck. It hung heavy, his life now in the hands of an insane woman. Less than perfect circumstances he wanted before kicking the bucket.

“Now yer all mine,” Maize proclaimed. “Can’t have you runnin’ off if you get loose. And can’t have other people stealin’ you from me.” She gave Junkrat a slap against his temple and turned heel. “Try to get some sleep. You got lots of talkin’ to do in the mornin’.” Then she headed back towards her shack.

Like he was getting any sleep strung up like drying meat and with the molten pain in his mouth.

The other woman was still there, standing and staring at him quietly.

“What?” said Junkrat, “Wanna take a picture?”

She looked around nervously for a moment, especially in the direction Maize had went. From the bottom of her clothing, she tore a strip of fabric and balled it up in a tight wad. Junkrat was about to question her actions until she shoved the fabric into his bleeding gap. She was…taking care of him? But why? Wasn’t she loyal to The Pack?

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I had no choice. Maize would have punished me if I didn’t do as I was told.” She then slipped something in between his lips; it rested on top of his tongue. Her hands reached for his ropes and loosen them, not untying them completely. “When everyone is asleep,” she said. “Unlock yer collar and make a run for it.”

“But why—“

“Where the hell are you?!” Maize’s bellow shook the whole encampment.

She covered Junkrat’s mouth with her hand, glancing at the leader’s shack, then back at him. “Save the others if you can.” She said. “Good luck.” The woman took a step back and high tailed into Maize’s shack.

Junkrat wiggled the object around in his mouth, getting a feel for it. The size and particular shape; no doubt about it that it was some sort of key. What was that woman’s motive? He did he know she wasn’t going to backstab him? Well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to turn away an opportunity like this one.

 

 

Fire were left unattended to burn themselves out and the spotlights were dimmed as The Pack encampment fell into a deep slumber. From the height of the moon in the sky, Junkrat had to guess it was somewhere between 1 and 2 A.M. Where were the others? They better not have abandoned him with this crazy gang.

“Rat…” he heard Kidd’s tiny voice call for him but couldn’t pinpoint the child’s location.

“Kidd?” Junkrat whispered, scanning the general area around him. He noticed a small shadow by some empty animal cages. “Kidd?” he repeated, directed towards the shadow huddled in the corner.

The shadow perked up and darted towards him, zig-zagging around the spotlights and staying in the dark. Junkrat heard the familiar clattering of his equipment as Kidd drew closer. That scrawny kid, how happy he was to see a friendly face. Kidd, along with his dog friends, carried the bags over their backs like pack mules. He slid the duffle bag carefully off his body, wiggling out from under it, and ran up to the older man’s side. Kidd began to pace back and forth in front of Junkrat, sniffing at the blood speckled on the ground. Rising up from all fours to two legs, Kidd’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head with a small whimper.

Dammit, the kid was worried about him again. Junkrat shifted his weight on his single foot and started to free his wrist out of its bind. He laughed it off and said, “Probably look fucked up, don’t I? Promise you it ain’t as bad as it looks.” When he managed to slip his hand out, he pulled the rope off his bicep but didn’t account for his lack of a second leg.

Junkrat fell forward. Kidd stayed in place and let the older man slump his body top his own, preventing another hard hit to the ground. Though the kid wasn’t strong enough to lift the man back on his single foot, Kidd pushed him back in a sitting position. Kidd then backed away a few feet, giving Junkrat the room he certainly needed.

Pulling the ropes off his thigh and ankle, Junkrat commented, “Can’t do much without my arm ‘n leg.”

Kidd stood at attention on cue and began sniffing at the ground again, slowly traveling away from The Rack. With the kid out of sight, Junkrat spat the key out onto his palm and fumbled with the padlock keeping his collar locked around his neck. The silver key, slick from his spit, proved difficult to keep a grip on it with one hand. A stream of curses passed through his lips as the key fell repeatedly from his fingers and dropped in the dirt. He wiped off the dirt on his pants and tried once more.

“Uh,” Kidd grunted, alerting Junkrat of his presence. “Rat.” He had the metal arm and peg leg held close to his chest and passed them over to the older man.

“Thanks mate,” Junkrat said. He held the key between his lips then quickly reattached his lips in the right places. They were on borrowed time, who knows when the gang would wake up again. Unlocking the bomb collar was much easier with two hands. The collar and padlock hit the ground with a tiny clatter.

Distant, astonished whispers and gasps came from the slave cages. Junkrat had almost forgotten about them. They were completely silent up until now. Every single woman stared at him, their eyes full of sadness and hands curled around the bars that were their prison. As much as he wanted to help them at the moment, he had to set up the explosive charges. They could, had to, wait a little while longer. No good if he was caught again before all the charges were placed. The plan would go straight down the drain if he did. He shoved the key in his pocket, quietly got to his feet, and heaved the bag Kidd had carried over his shoulder. Junkrat motioned with quick hand gestures to Kidd and the dogs, who followed after him immediately. Together, they tiptoed around the spotlights and passed the buildings under the safety of the shadows.

Kidd held the flashlight in his mouth while Junkrat worked on attaching the explosive charges to the trucks. He was a professional in he own words, no one knew bombs and explosions like he did. He stripped a wire of its protective plastic casing with a pair of pliers and twisted the wire together with another. The pain in his mouth caused him to work slower than usual and his hands to shake. That damn Maize, he really wasn’t expecting for her to rip his tooth out. Probably would rip all her teeth and break her fingers after all this was over. No, she deserved more and far worse than just regular injuries. Out of spite and anger towards the leader, Junkrat muscled through the pain to get the job done.

“There are gonna be some fireworks soon, kid.” Junkrat said as he added the last finishing touches to the charges.

“Fireworks? Do you mean explosions?”

The dogs began to growl and Junkrat whipped his around, pliers raised above his head. He was ready to beat someone’s face in until he realized who it was that approached him. It was the same woman from before. She appeared more relaxed, at ease, than the last time he saw her. Something about her, her mere presence, made Junkrat feel…at home. It was unnatural, who was this woman? Kidd hid behind the older man at the sight of the strange woman.

“Relax, relax,” she said with her hands up in defense. “It’s okay. The Pack is dead asleep. They won’t be botherin’ you.”

“You!” said Junkrat as he stood up, motioning his hand to silence the dogs. “Gotta lots of questions for you. First, who the hell are you and why are you helpin’ me?”

“I thought you would be askin’ a few questions,” she answered. “Who wouldn’t in yer situation, huh? My name is Joanna, I’m Maize’s…” she rolled her eyes during her brief pause then continued, “Personal slave…”

“Her fuck toy,” he pieced together.

Joanna tilted her head side to side. “In layman’s term, yes. That is what I am. Been her personal slave for 2 years, 5 and a half months, and 4 days.”

Junkrat raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific, ain’t it?”

“Perhaps,” she replied nonchalantly. “When yer a slave, you learn to count every day yer still alive. And I want nothing more than my freedom and the freedom of the other slaves.”

“Why don’t you make a run for it now? You gave me that key for the bomb collars. You coulda just—“

Joanna shook her head. “Not possible.” She craned her neck to show off her own bomb collar. A gold padlock kept her collar in place but it was different. Her padlock had three dials on it. “My padlock is locked with a code, not a key. Maize always puts combination locks on her personal slave. I cannot leave the camp unless I get the code.”

This woman, she was smarter than usual woman that lived in the Wastes; she was almost akin to Doctor Vega. The way she talked to him, the lack of slang in her voice. She had some sort of education, Junkrat figured.

“Why are you helpin’ me?” He repeated his question from before.

“Because,” Joanna said. “Yer the only one who has ever stood up against Maize. Survived through the torture. And besides,” she shrugged. “I have no one else to turn to. My husband and child are dead. My life’s work is gone. You could say I am a desperate woman.”

“Yer life’s work?” Junkrat parroted the woman’s words.

“Yes, my life’s work. A way to revitalize the whole country. But The Pack killed my husband and kidnapped me before I could put it in effect. My only child is missing or possibly dead.” A wave of melancholy washed over the woman suddenly. She continued, “But I can save these women from The Pack’s abuse. With yer help, of course.”

_A way to revitalize the whole country_ , the sentence repeated in Junkrat’s mind. Where did he hear that before? It was so close, it was on the tip of his tongue.

The flashlight fell out from Kidd’s mouth and he walked out from behind Junkrat. “Ma…?” His voice was tiny and confused. He edged himself closer to the woman, nose up, sniffing the air around her. “Ma…?” he said again, looking up at her.

She turned her attention to Kidd. “No one has called me that in years…” she mumbled to herself and she bent down to the child’s level, staring into his eyes. “Those eyes. It’s been so long since I’ve seen eyes like those. It can’t be…” A hand covered Joanna’s mouth. “Morgan? Sweetheart, is that you?”

“Ma!” Kidd shouted and leapt into the woman’s open arms. “Ma, Ma, Ma…” The child muttered repeatedly in the curve of the woman’s neck.

“My sweet baby…I thought you were dead.” Joanna said, petting Kidd’s hair. Her eyes then went to the child’s prosthetic. “What happened to yer leg?!”

Junkrat chuckled nervously and waved, “That-that would be my fault…”

She stared wide eyed at him for a moment then her expression relaxed. “Well, she’s alright and healthy. That’s all that matter.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. _She?_ ”

The woman nodded and replied, “Yes, my Morgan is a girl.”

_Morgan_ ; that was the kid’s real name. _Morgan_ , the name repeated in Junkrat’s head over and over again. And the kid wasn’t a he, he was a _she_ the whole time. How did he not know? Then all the realizations hit him at once.

_The little pup didn’t need crazy ol’ Junkrat anymore_.

No more putting a kid’s life in danger or acting like a dog. Kidd, Morgan, could have a somewhat decent and normal childhood that he couldn’t have. But what would Junkrat do after he took down The Pack? Everything he did, he did it for the kid. He loved the kid, he had to admit. Loved the kid like a sibling. Now the kid was in the safety of his, _her_ , mother. Junkrat frowned. He was so used to calling the kid by the name he made and male pronouns. Some habits die hard, he guessed.

“Oh, what a lovely reunion between mother and child!” Maize’s voice rang out into the night.

Junkrat froze.

Joanna whipped around and set her child on the ground behind her, using her body as a shield from the leader in front of her. But out of her pocket, Maize took out a detonator. There was gigantic smile across her ugly face.

“No! Please!” Joanna shouted and took a step towards the other woman.

Maize pressed the button.

_BANG!_ In an instant, the bomb collar around Joanna’s neck exploded. Her head erupted into a bloody mess of brain matter and skull fragments, coating the general area in red. The woman’s headless body stood there then fell forward in a heap at the leader’s feet.

Maize laughed and wiped the blood off her face with the back of her hand. “Oops, I killed her.” She mocked.


	11. Let's Remember to Forget

“Did you see that? _Did you see that?!_ ” Maize cackled as she pointed at the lifeless body of Joanna. “Her head popped like a big ol’ melon! _Bam! Sploosh!_ And down she goes!” Her laughter echoed through the night, going on like a broken record. It drew out a few Pack members from their slumber and they flooded out of the barracks. They all stood behind their leader, murmurs overcame the group as they stared at the scene before them.

Kidd’s body trembled as he lowered himself to his knees. He crawled towards his mother’s corpse. “Ma?” he called out and tugged on her rags. “ _Ma?_ ”

“Oh-ho, boys, you shoulda seen it!” said Maize, wiping the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. “Jo’s head busted like a melon! Right in front of her kid, too! The expression on her face before I press that button was priceless!”

The men erupted in laughter along with their leader, jeering and taunting the shock stricken child.

The chance for the kid to have a normal childhood, to even save and restore the Wastes, all gone with a single press of a button. The evidence was right there in front of him. Junkrat was painted in the deceased woman’s blood. And now they were laughing like it was some cheap joke. He stared at his hands, covered in a mixture of dirt and blood, and squeezed them tightly. A fire sparked within him, it burned hot and wild in the pits of his stomach. It consumed Junkrat in an instant and he exploded, bigger than any explosion he had ever made.

“You fuckin’ cunt!” Junkrat roared and lunged at Maize, his metal hand drawn back into a fist. All the pain and hatred he felt, he wanted this woman to feel it a hundred times over.

Maize didn’t move an inch out of his path and she easily caught his fist in her right hand. The grunts all let out a chorus of gasps, both in shock and amazement. “Aww, the little rat’s mad.” She mocked, pushing back on his fist. “I should be the one mad. You made me kill my favorite slave. Oh well, I’ll get another one.” In a swift motion, Maize pulled Junkrat forward by the arm and rammed her knee into his abdomen.

All the air escaped Junkrat’s lungs and he let out a pitiful squeak, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He stumbled back a step and took Maize’s familiar leather boot to the face. His back connected with the dirt and charge detonator skidded across the ground, stopping right underneath Maize’s foot.

“Can’t have you havin’ this now, can we?” Maize said. Without hesitation, she slammed her heel down and reduced the detonator to broken scrap parts. She then kicked the shattered bits at Junkrat and set her foot on his chest. “I shoulda known you were up to somethin’. Men like you should never be trusted. Yer all the same. And this kid,” she removed her foot and walked passed his head.

Junkrat struggled to get up, an eye closed and an arm still clutched around his abdomen. “D-don’t put yer damn hands on that k-kid.” He said through a clenched jaw.

“Since the kid was my slave’s daughter,” Maize stated as she stepped over the dead body like trash. “It makes her my property now.” She towered over the child, a monstrous giant compared to the cowering Kidd. “’Ey, sweetie. Yer gonna join my gang and I’ll give you a pretty necklace as a gift!”

“No!” Kidd shouted and bolted in between Maize’s legs. “Rat!” he cried.

“Oh no you don’t!” She grabbed Kidd by the back of his shirt. The child kicked and flailed in the woman’s grasp. “You don’t have much of a choice. You belong to me now! Fang, Hackle, go get me a collar. The rest of you can administer punishment to our devious friend but don’t kill him!”

Junkrat heard ‘ _Yes ma’am_ ’ and ‘ _Thank you, ma’am_ ’ then the crowd of thugs descended upon him.

Everything was falling apart in front of him. He took another knee to the stomach and collapsed, drool and blood dripped from the sides of his mouth. He was so close, so close to setting everything off and satisfying his thirst for revenge. A barrage of kicks and punches hit Junkrat all over his body. All he could do was to cover his head with his arms and endure the assault. He was terrified, terrified for the kid mostly. He didn’t give a shit about himself at the moment. Who knew what those maniacs would do to poor Kidd. The image of Kidd’s grinning face came to mind, causing Junkrat to bury his nails into his skull. Dammit, he was supposed to protect the kid! It was his fault, taking down this gang was his plan in the first place. Now look where his brilliant plan got them.

But then a scream rang out. An inhuman screech that reverberated in everyone’s eardrums.

_It was all coming from Kidd._

The dogs leapt into action as if on command to the child’s deafening scream. One sunk its sharp yellow fangs into Maize’s forearm and began to pull her down to the ground. Maize let out a scream herself, released Kidd from her grip, and pounded her fist against the dog’s head. Even after her beating, the dog stayed attached and dug its teeth deeper in her arm. Another tackled a grunt who was wailing on Junkrat’s head and sent him to the ground. It clamped down on the guy’s throat and tore it to shreds with great ease. The men went in a frenzy at the attack, abandoned their assault, and ran to the aid of their fellow gang member.

Junkrat uncovered his head and lifted it up, looking at the sudden war that broke out all around him.

More dogs came running from the shadows at Kidd’s call, like a general shouting orders to soldiers. Beast clashed with human as dogs went one-on-one with gang members. Snarls and hollers, teeth and fists; pure, unadulterated insanity was the only tern to describe the battle. And Junkrat saw opportunity in all this confusion. He dragged himself across the cold ground, a harder task than it appeared with his injuries, in Kidd’s direction. He needed to get the kid as far away as he could from this place.

Kidd’s head craned up to the night sky, the howling screams turned into uncontrollable sobbing. Junkrat’s twisted in tight knots, and it wasn’t from the painful blows he received. The kid didn’t deserve any of this, watching both of his parents die like he did. He couldn’t comfort the kid now, not at this state and moment in time. What could he even do or say to make any of this better? All his plans were sabotaged and he was at his wit’s end.

The revving of a motorcycle’s engine boomed through the massive fight between the dogs and The Pack. No one gave up to the other combatant, paying no attention the growing noise around them. Only until the motorcycle in question came barreling into the battlefield like a mad bull did the dogs and grunts stopped their fighting. Junkrat never thought he would be happy to see Roadhog and Doctor Vega skidding to a full stop on the large man’s bike. In each of the doctor’s hands was a molotov cocktail, cloth flaming and ready to be thrown.

“Wake up, bitches!” she shouted and chucked the glass bottles against the Pack’s living quarters.

Flames consumed the wooden walls and columns of smoke rose into the dark night sky. The remaining members fleeing the burning buildings met their end at the barrel of Roadhog’s scrapgun. Shrapnel ripped up the unsuspected men as if they were made from paper. They died where they stood. When he had to reload, Vega took over and gunned down the rest with her pistol. Both then dismounted the bike and joined the battleground with the others.

While the dogs did the most damage, Vega and Roadhog delivered the finishing blows to the incapacitated gang members. The enforcer was known for his brutality, burying his hook into skulls and snapping necks like twigs. But it was unheard of from the good doctor. Vega sucker punched men much larger than her and shot them point blank in between the eyes without batting an eye or even flinching. Junkrat had never seen this side of the doctor, this cold and hardened side of her. She didn’t mutter a single word as she downed men like she downed bottles of liquor.

The unmoving bodies of The Pack and many dogs littered the camp as fires burned out of control in the background. Maize was nowhere to be seen and out of the bloody, war stricken encampment, Vega approached Junkrat. She must have changed clothes in between the hours leading up to the fight. She wore now camo pants, steel toed boots, and a sleeveless shirt.

She knelt down and lowered the black bandana from her face. “They really fucked you up, didn’t they?” Vega commented.

“This ain’t nothin’,” Junkrat said, trying to save face. “What’s with the costume change? Tryin’ to look the part of a killer, huh?”

Vega shrugged, “Ain’t really murder if yer killin’ bad people.”

“Yer not wrong there, doc.” He chuckled then flinched. Laughing still hurt like hell.

A shadow loomed over Doctoc Vega, slowly walking up behind her, and wrapped a blood coated chain around her neck. It was Maize, eyes burning with rage and a wicked grin on her face as she pulled tight on the chain. Vega tried to shake her off but Maize held on, digging her heels in the dirt and twisting the chain in her hands. The doctor choked out words and tugged on the chain frantically, gasping for air. Junkrat could do nothing but watch the doctor’s life be snuffed out like a flame before his eyes.

“Shoulda known you would cross me,” Maize said, pulling on the chain several times. “I am not a woman you should ever cross, doctor!”

Vega clawed at the air in front of her.

Maize laughed at the doctor’s attempts to shake her and escape. The blood from the leader’s dog bite stained Vega’s white shirt as it dripped from her arm. But what Maize did not noticed was the massive shadow now towering over her. Roadhog’s hand clenched around the woman’s head and the man flung her backwards, slamming her up against the door of a truck. The metal crumpled underneath her body from the sheer force alone and she fell to the ground with a thud.

“God fuckin’ dammit,” Vega croaked, rubbing the dark bruises forming around her neck. “Let my damn guard down.”

Junkrat managed to rise to his feet, shaky but still in one piece. He kept his metal arm wrapped tight around his waist and he rested his free hand on the doctor’s back.

“I’m fine,” Vega reassured him through fits of coughing and a wave of her hand. “Go get her. I bet she got some good information for you.”

He gave her a quiet nod and went limping toward Maize and Roadhog. The man had her pinned by her head against the truck’s window. She pounded her fists on his hands and kicked at the large man’s stomach. Growls and animalistic noises came out of Maize’s mouth while she thrashed. When Junkrat came into her line of sight, she went off in a heated fury.

“You! You piece of shit!” Maize hissed. “There won’t be a place in Hell for you to hide! I’ll skin you alive and eat yer flesh!”

“Oh shut up,” said Junkrat. “You ain’t gonna do a single thing. Yer gang is six feet under and yer all alone. All yer gonna do is talk.”

She scoffed, “Like hell I am. Go fuck yerself.”

Junkrat glanced up at Roadhog, who answered with a silent nod. He raised Maize’s head and smashed her skull against the window. The glass shattered on impact, blood streamed down her scarred face, and Maize let out a pained whimper. Roadhog lined up the leader’s neck with sharp shards of glass stuck in the window. She struggled beneath the large hand, trying to push it away.

“Now, what’s the name of the suit you got all that money and that fancy suitcase from?”

“How do you –?” Maize started then corrected herself immediately. “I don’t know nothin’! Fuck you!”

“Aw, though you would be a little more cooperative,” mocked Junkrat and he side-eyed Roadhog a second time.

Slowly, he lowered Maize’s head. The glass shards punctured her skin and tiny beads of blood appeared on her neck.

Her breathing hitched and she shouted, pounding on the truck door. “Alright, alright! Matthew Stanson, his name is Matthew Stanson, okay?! He paid me half mill to kill some stupid scientists. I told you what you wanted, now let me go!”

“Do it,”

Roadhog slammed Maize’s head down, the broken glass buried deep into her slender neck. He tightened his grip on her head and dragged her neck across the sharp glass, tearing open her flesh. Her blood splashed on the glass and dripped down the side of the truck. Maize gasped for air, gurgling and choking on her own fluids. Roadhog dropped the dying woman and abandoned her to go to Vega’s side.

Junkrat leaned over Maize and grabbed her by the front of her bloodied shirt. “You killed the wrong parents, mate.” He said, “Say hi to the big guy downstairs for me.” and he threw her back against the truck.

He limped he way back to the others. The gorgeous tune of Maize meeting her end in a slow, agonizing way droned on in the background. She deserved much, much worse but Junkrat didn’t have the time or energy to make her suffer like he wanted her to.

Vega was on her feet when he returned. Her chest continued to heave as she coughed here and there. “’Ey, Rat Man.” She greeted. “Get what you wanted outta Maize?”

The only reply Junkrat could give her was a nod as he stared at Kidd. He slipped the key from his pocket into Vega’s hand. “Go free the other ladies, yeah?” he said. Before the doctor could answer, he walked away from her, heading towards the child.

The pack of mangy dogs, survivors of the gang war, encircled Kidd and the lifeless body of his mother. When Junkrat came near, they ducked their heads and parted to create a path to the child for him. The feeling of dread, the same feeling he felt at that abandoned house, hung heavy on his shoulders. He was limping slower because of it.

Kidd sat close to his mother’s headless body. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his tiny hand held on to the woman’s limp fingers. Tears continued to flow down his cheeks, creating clean trails through the dirt of his face. He was quiet when Junkrat sat down beside him. His sad eyes looked up at the older man then returned to the body. It was the same exact way he stared at the bleached bones of his father.

“You know the bad people are gone. Every single one of them.” Junkrat finally broke the silence. He watched Roadhog pick up dead Pack members and dump them in the building fires. “They won’t be hurtin’ you anymore.” He shook his head at his statement. The Pack took everything away from this kid. There was nothing else for them to take if they were still alive. Junkrat couldn’t imagine the sort of pain that Kidd was feeling at the moment.

Kidd, still silent, climbed up on Junkrat’s lap. He hooked his legs around the man’s thin waist, wrapped his arms around his neck, and rested his tiny face on his chest. Comfort; from what Junkrat learned from before, he could certainly provide that now. He pulled the kid in close to his body, embracing Kidd in a tight hug. Junkrat settled his chin on top of Kidd’s head and quietly watched the world around him. The sun crawling up over the horizon, the scent of burning flesh in the air, and smoke rising to the salmon pink sky; it was a calming scene according to him.

Junkrat shut his eyes and laid his cheek on Kidd’s hair. His whole body screamed out in pain and sleep called for him. If it mattered to him, he would sleep for years if he could. A few hours or days would be fine. Sleep knew how to heal some wounds.

 

A week had passed since Maize and The Pack met their untimely, or timely, demise. Word reached all the way to Haven and Junkrat became the talk of the town for more than just his treasure. He took on one of the most brutal Junker gang out there and survived. He did the impossible, came back to tell his marvelous tale of success. In the eyes of the slaves he freed, he was akin to a hero. To others, he was nuttier than a rabbit walking straight into a dingoes’ den. Perhaps he was both.

Wounds began to heal, mentally and physically, over time. While recovered from bruises mostly, Kidd was a different story. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Doctor Vega called it in her fancy medical talk, from all the things he witnessed in his little life. The kid would stare at the wall for hours in complete silence, bouncing his leg up and down or wake up crying in the middle of the night.

“Just give the pipsqueak some time,” Vega said. “He’s been through a lot. There are gonna be a lot of scars left over.”

Time was something Junkrat did not have an abundant amount of. As much as he wanted to stay, he had much grander plans of adventure for himself. Get out of the country and taste the higher life other civilized countries had; that’s what Junkrat really wanted. But he didn’t want to leave without Kidd, him and the little guy were a team. Though, he didn’t want to force the kid to do something he didn’t want to do. Did Kidd even want to be around him still? After all the pain he caused him? The only way was to be straight forward with the kid.

“”Ey, kid,” said Junkrat. He sat on the edge of Kidd’s temporary bed given to him by the doctor, pulling on his metal fingers. “Wanna tag along with me and Roadie? We’ll bid this place bon voyage and show the world what we’re really made of!”

Kidd gave him a curious tilt of his head. “Wot?”

“Do you wanna come with me and Hog?” he reworded his sentence. “I’m sure you’ll have the time of yer life.”

Kidd stared at him right in the eye, blue locked onto amber. There was a pause and time ticked onward at a slow, painful pace. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. The kid would realize that his life was better without him and reject him completely. Why doesn’t the little mutt just say it already?

“Uh!” Kidd said instead with a nod and he climbed up on Junkrat’s lap. “Me go wif Rat!”

The kid’s broken English surprised him. It was the first sentence he had ever heard Kidd say the whole time he knew the kid. His face grew hot and a silly grin spread across his face. Junkrat tossed Kidd up in the air and caught him in a fit of giggles. He was the only one who got to hear Kidd’s first full sentence. It was more special than any treasure he could have ever found.

“I keep tellin’ you that you two look adorable together!” Doctor Vega proclaimed as she entered the bedroom and took a seat in the empty chair nearby. “I think havin’ the pipsqueak tag along with you is the best choice. He’ll get depressed if you left without him.”

“Yeah, me and –,” Junkrat paused and looked at Kidd. He smiled at him with his eyes closed and his tongue slightly sticking out his mouth. The kid needed a new name, Kidd wouldn’t cut it anymore if he was going to hang with two Junkers. Something that fit the kid like a glove, and then the perfect alias hit him. “Me and Scrappup here, we’re like a team! A two package bundle deal! With Roadie, we’ll be unstoppable!”

“I’m Scrappup!” Kidd, now Scrappup, cheered.

Vega chuckled, “I bet you guys will turn the whole world upside down!”

“Ain’t a doubt about it! Bet yer gonna be bored outta yer wits when I kiss this place goodbye!”

“The opposite, actually.” Said the doctor as she got up and led the two into the main room. Roadhog was there, shoving various supplies into a bag on the coffee table. When Scrappup waved at him, the stotic man gave him a quiet nod in response. Vega continued, “Thanks to all that equipment and files we recovered from that house, we may have somethin’ good to work with. I might be able to find someone who knows more about plants than I do. Perhaps we can finally reclaim out home from radiation.”

“Isn’t going to be easy, y’know.” Roadhog commented.

“That’s the fun of it, Mako! Gettin’ yer hands dirty and workin’ up a sweat; that’s what’s gonna fix everythin’” she replied and raised her hands up in the air as if she was reading a newspaper headline. “‘ _The Australian Restoration Association’_ … got a nice ring to it, don’t it? Gather some folks together, work to the bone, and make a difference. Just like them Overwatch-men, yeah?”

 Roadhog snorted.

“And look where it got them,” Junkrat spoke up. “Now a bunch of washed up omnic lovers.”

Vega rolled her eyes. “Boys, don’t be like that. This is different! The whole country comin’ together to do good, not some group of randoms. We will be real heroes!”

The large man looked over at the petite doctor. Though completely obscured by his mask, the chill of Roadhog’s glare was prominent. “You didn’t say the same damn thing when they were stealin’ our homes from us, now did you?”

The doctor’s body stiffened and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you dare bring this shit up again, not in front of them. Leave it in the past, Mako.” Her voice was as cold as the man’s gaze.

“You want to bring the country together? You weren’t even there when it needed you the most. You’re no hero, Vega.”

“Says the fat fuck who helped ruin our home in the first place! You and those damn terrorists caused all of this!” Vega then motioned to Junkrat and Scrappup. “ _You ruined them, Mako!_ ”

Roadhog then rose to his feet. He huffed and wheezed through the filters of his mask. Muscles shifted and twitched beneath tanned, blemished skin.

Vega turned her back to him and growled, “Now get the hell out of my house.”

Without uttering another word to the woman, Roadhog snatched the bag off the table and he stomped out of the front door.

She didn’t even face Junkrat. “Take care of yerself and the pipsqueak, Jamison.” Vega muttered and left the room.

No goodbyes, no witty one-liners, or even a smile. Just a bittersweet taste in Junkrat’s mouth and a whole lot of questions, as always. If he had a dollar for every time someone was hiding something from him, he wouldn’t even need any treasure.

He exited the clinic with Scrappup sitting on his shoulders, he hadn’t said a word in a moment. Roadhog had his back to Junkrat, didn’t acknowledge his presence while he strapped the bag to the back of his bike. Junkrat scowled; if this guy was going to be working for him, he couldn’t just ignore him.

“Are you gonna tell me what that was all about?” Junkrat asked. “Thought a fist fight was gonna break out between you two.”

Roadhog stopped, glanced over his shoulder at the younger man, then back at his task. “It’s nothing,” he grumbled.

“Oh no, you cockin’ cock!” exclaimed Junkrat and he walked up to Roadhog’s right side. “You ain’t hidin’ a single thing from me! My memory might be a tad fried but I won’t be forgettin’ that shoutin’ match!”

He faced Junkrat completely and warned, “It’s none of your business.”

“Then I’ll make it my business!”

Scrappup placed one of his hands on Junkrat’s face, covering his nose and mouth. The other hand reached over and pressed up against the nose of Roadhog’s mask. “Shh,” the child said. “Loud.”

There was silence between both of the men when Scrappup did that. It was a random gesture, to stop the bickering it seemed. Roadhog, staring down the child, took a deep breath…

_…and laughed._

It wasn’t as sarcastic chuckle or a dry snicker, but a belly laugh. One that, in certain context, would bring a shiver down a person’s spine. Yet Scrappup was all smiles. Roadhog slid his hands under the kid’s arms and gently lifted him off Junkrat’s shoulders. Metal creaked as the large man slung his leg over the bike and settled down on the sun bleached leather seat. He positioned Scrappup on his stomach, adjusting him several times to make sure the kid was seated snugly.

“Are you getting on or not?” Roadhog asked. Scrappup gripped the man’s forearms and looked over at Junkrat as he kicked his legs playfully.

If he thought he could just avoid telling him about that fight, he had another thing coming. Junkrat groaned, “Fine, fine. Don’t get yer panties in a bunch, I’m comin’” He slipped onto the motorcycle’s seat, grabbed Roadhog’s love handles, and knocked his heel against the bike. “Onward, my swine knight! To victory!”

With a grumble, Roadhog squeezed the worn handles and the motorcycle roared to life. He made a wide U-turn, almost causing Junkrat to fall right, and floored it. The three sped forward through the town and right out the open gate. The guards shouted but the bike stopped for no one, leaving Haven in its dust.

 

 

Melbourne was one of several thriving cities on the Australian coast unaffected by radiation. Technology and its economy were booming, citizens were happy, and everyone had forgotten about the people suffering in the mainland. In one of the tallest skyscraper in the bustling city, on the top floor, a man by the name of Matthew Stanson sat comfortably in his executive office. The middle aged, silver haired man had a life many would dream about having. Being the president of a company made to better the lives of the residents of the coast was fulfilling, and paid well.

A small holographic woman, blue in color, appeared on his desk from a projector. “Mister Stanson,” she said in a monotone voice. “There is several people here to see you, sir.”

Matthew didn’t turn away from the large windows overlooking the city below. “I’m not seeing anyone today, Mercury. I do not have any appointments booked this day. You know this, correct?”

“But sir,” Mercury replied. “They made it clear that they wanted to see you.”

He shot to his feet and slammed his palm on the desk surface, the woman did not flinch. “Well, make them leave then!” Matthew shouted, exasperated.

The wooden double door to his office suddenly flew off their hinges. One fell to the carpeted floor and the other crashed against his desk, splitting in two. From the hallway, Roadhog, Junkrat, and Scrappup entered the room.

Matthew, wide eyed, said sarcastically to the A.I., “Thanks Mercury.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” She said then dismissed herself.

“I don’t know why you’re here but –, “ he began to say.

Roadhog rushed towards the man, an unmovable force barreling down on the poor soul. He stopped in front of the desk, grabbed it by its sides, and tossed it aside as if it was made of nothing. The desk smashed right through the drywall and Matthew was left invulnerable to the man towering over him.

Junkrat whistled and stepped further into the room. “Nice place you got here! Lotsa room and fancy too!” He looked around, hopped over the doors, and stopped by Matthew’s side. Their eyes met, amber stared at brown lined with silver. This was him, this was the man that issued the murder of the kid’s parents; he thought. His eyes combed over the frightened and disgusted man a few times, then rolled his eyes. It was just another suit, he wasn’t anything special looking to Junkrat.

“Rat!” Scrappup said excitedly, bounced passed the three adults, and stood before the large windows. He pressed his hands and face against the crystal clear glass. “High, high, high!” he chanted, hopping up and down.

“A beautiful view, ain’t it?” Junkrat said with a smile on his face. “You can see the whole city from up here! Bet you never seen somethin’ like that in yer life!”

Matthew turned to Scrappup and shouted, “Hey! Get your filthy hands off the windows! Cleaning them cost more than you!”

Grabbing the man’s red tie and pulling him into his personal space, Junkrat growled, “Don’t talk to my mutt like that, you fuckin’ prick.” He shoved the man away and whistled again. On command, Scrappup pulled his face from off the window and ran back to Junkrat’s side.

Matthew stumbled backwards, adjusted his tie, and smoothed out his black suit. He took a deep breath and asked, “Explain to me why there are a bunch of _Junkers_ in my office. Thought all of you died off already.”

“Takes more than a few rads to kill us off, mate,” Junkrat replied.

“Uh!” Scrappup piped in.

“We came deliverin’ a message from –“ Junkrat paused, eyes darting about in confusion, then he focused on Roadhog. “Oi, Hog, what was the name of that crazy lady you gutted again?”

“Maize,” he answered.

“Yeah, yeah! Her! Woman tore out my damn tooth,” Junkrat drew back his top with a finger. The lights reflected of the golden tooth that replaced his recently extracted canine. “But got me a shiny new tooth though! It’s an improvement, if you ask me.”

“Rat, focus.” Roadhog said.

“We came deliverin’ a message from Maize,” he continued, getting back on topic. “Y’know, yer business partner. It was along the lines of screamin’ and drownin’ in her own blood. Kinda hard to understand, now that I think about it.”

Matthew sneered, “As if I ever would associate with a Junker leader, let alone someone like her. Now get out of my office before I call security.”

His comment made Junkrat raise an eyebrow. “Never said anythin’ about her being a gang leader. Good job outtin’ yerself there, mate.”

“Why does it matter to you whom I do business with?”

In an instance, Roadhog’s fist wrapped tight around Matthew’s neck. The tiny man uttered a small cry as he was lifted off the ground. He attempted to pull the fat fingers from his neck and his legs flailed to reach solid flooring. His eyes, bloodshot, peered over at Junkrat.

“It mattered to me when you killed my mutt’s parents.”

Matthew’s eyes grew large and Roadhog stomped forward. With little effort, he smashed the business man’s body through the glass panel. Large shards of glass rained down on the lower levels of the skyscraper below. Matthew now held on to for dear life of Roadhog’s hand as he dangled high in the air. His fingernails dug into the leather glove and he glanced down at the height beneath his feet. Junkrat and Scrappup stood on either side of Roadhog, watching the captured man struggle.

“Now,” Junkrat said. “Unless you want my large and temperamental friend to drop you, you better start answerin’ questions.”

“Okay, okay!” Matthew screamed out in a panic.

Roadhog was the first to ask a question, tightening his grip on Matthew. “Why?” was the only word that filtered out his mask.

The man nervously chuckled, “I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about…”

“Not sure yer in the position to be playin’ dumb,” the young Junker pointed out. “Don’t wanna paint the sidewalk down there red, do you? Maize mentioned you by name. Said you paid them big bucks to off some plant people.”

“Botanists,” corrected Roadhog.

“Yeah, same difference. They were workin’ on something big, bigger than levelin’ a city block.”

“It was just b-business!” Matthew stammered. “The Shea Doctors wouldn’t sell me their project! I offered them money beyond their wildest dreams!”

“Then you killed them,” Roadhog said, pulling the man closer in to him, faces pressed together. “Coulda just left them alone. But you didn’t.”

“W-what they created, what they discovered, I-I-I couldn’t let them live with that knowledge! If those two were killed by some crazy Junkers, no one would be the wiser, right? If the Wastes were restored, the economy would plummet and the coast cities would suffer. All that I sacrificed for the good of my people, for the good of my country. What’s a few botanists’ lives compared to the livelihood of a million people?” Matthew chuckled again. His eyes darted from Roadhog then Junkrat. “Now please put me down.”

Junkrat balled up his fist and held his head down. “Suits,” he mumbled then he lifted his head. “Yer all the same.” With a smile on his face, he looked pass Hog and focused his attention on the kid. “What do you say, Scrappy? Should we let the suit go or send him packin’?”

Scrappup stared up at him turned his attention to Matthew. The child cocked his head to the side, his face contorted in disgust, and he blew out a raspberry.

It made Junkrat laughed and he elbowed Roadhog’s side. “You heard the kid, porkloin! Send this suit flyin’!”

Roadhog released the man’s neck and Matthew scrambled to hold on. His attempts failed and he slipped, his high pitched screams filled their ears as he dropped. Glass shattered and car alarms blared when the man’s body connected with the roof of an idle car. Shocked bystanders on the streets screamed and police sirens screeched as chaos ensued in the city below.

“I don’t know about you boys,” said Junkrat as he stretched out his back. “But I could use a vacation. I was thinkin’ something along the lines of Japan. How about it? Sightseein’, shoppin’, causin’ the destruction of private property. We’ll have the time of our lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! That was A Junkyard Dog, the first fanfic I've ever completed. I want to thank everyone who gave my silly story a read. I don't know how to explain it but I'm very happy to made this story, to have created Scrappup, to entered the Overwatch fandom. Thank you all.


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